The Neverwere Moments 1: Trustworthy
by 6wingdragon
Summary: Let's take a look at what happens a year after the "Pred-Scare", when a familiar fox and recognizable rabbit take some time out of their busy lives to stop and smell the flowers. Can a bunny truly trust a fox? Can a fox truly accept that trust in return? Hear the words unspoken, listen to the tales untold; these are the moments that never were.
1. Chapter 1

"Whatcha looking at, Carrots?" asked Nick in that casual, implicating tone of his, peeking over Judy's shoulder as she hurried to hide her phone from view.

"N-nothing!" she yelped, a blush radiated off her ears.

"I didn't know they made farm boy pin-ups," teased the fox, leaning on her cubicle wall near the opening.

She scowled at him, but relinquished with a defeated sigh, "He's not a 'pin-up', he's my boyfriend, and his name is 'Bo'," she admitted, and the bright red blush which filled her ears softened to a pinkish hue as she smiled dreamily, turning the phone face-up to gaze at his picture again.

Nick's ears and eyebrows perked at the mention of a "boyfriend", as he'd known Judy for a while now but neither heard nor inferred anything of the sort, Sly bunny... pondered the fox. He tilted his head to see what was, certainly, a very farm boy rabbit, packed with farm boy muscle and drenched in farm boy sweat, holding up an especially large carrot in a selfie-shot.

"He pull that out all by himself?" Nick asked with feigned interest, "But, while I do enjoy teasing you at every opportunity, that's not why I'm here. My community service for tax evasion - thank you for that, by the way - ends tomorrow and I'm free this Saturday, which is a first for me. Now that I have a stable job and can afford weekends, I figured I'd let loose and do something really off the wall. Care to join me?" he asked with a grin.

"Oh... I'm so sorry, Nick," she said, turning about in her chair, "I'm visiting my parents this weekend. I'd invite you to come with, but I can't imagine visiting a carrot farm would be very 'off the wall'."

"Au contraire, I can't think of anything more so," remarked the fox, "I've been in Zootopia all my life and could use a bit of clean, farm air; and, of course, fresh blueberries."

Judy's ears sprung with a cheery smile, "That's great!" and then calmed after an important realization, "Except, there's kind of a big thing in Bunnyburrow this weekend, so it'll be really crowded."

"Bunnyburrow, crowded?" said Nick with exaggerated shock, "Next you'll be telling me Tundratown is cold or the Rainforest District is wet."

"Har har, Slick," she said with a wry smirk, "If you can find a hotel room, you're welcome to come along. I'll let my parents know, so they can prepare the relatives for a... visitor."

"Why, are bunnies still wary of foxes, even after all this acceptance and unity in Zootopia?"

"Yeah..." she admitted, shrugging and rolling her eyes, "the news hasn't yet reached some rabbits that foxes are okay to befriend. I guess years of prejudice won't go away so quickly."

"Nothing I don't already deal with," he said, waving his paw absently with an endearing smile, "I still get sidelong glances when out during the day, after all; at least in Bunnyburrow those glances will be waist-height."

"Not all of them," said Judy with a curiously knowing smile.

"Of course," replied Nick, "there are sheep and horses and whatever manner of mammals too stifled in the big city, but again, nothing I can't handle."

"Whatever you say," said the rabbit, that smile remaining as she pivoted to her computer, before half-turning back to address Nick, "Oh! Before I forget, Chief Bogo needs the write-up about that Howler Den case on his desk yesterday, so if you want your free weekend I suggest you finish that."

"I'll get right on it, Officer Toot-toot," Nick said with a salute and a smirk, earning a dismissive air-shove from the rabbit. 'Howlers', thought Nick, walking down the cubicle-formed hallway to his own desk, Wolves still get miffed about that, but I don't blame 'em. Bellwether's drug-labs fled further into the underbelly of the city after they locked her up, and while there hasn't been a savage-attack since then, these new drug dens are popping up everywhere.

He swung his chair around and spun into it, scooting up to his computer to unlock it and pull up the aforementioned report. Lessee... he began, or rather continued, his write-up, "Casualties: None", "Injuries:"... Does a stubbed toe count? ... "Injuries: Negligible", "Arrests:"... This is where he got stuck last time, but he sighed and trudged through it. "Arrests: 6", one for peddling Nighthowler pollen at exorbitant prices, and five for selling their shirts to get the next high. He looked over the file of that night, flipping through some of the most pathetic looking mammals he'd ever seen in his life, and that was a high bar to reach. Who would've thought that Night Howler pollen, of all things, causes trippy hallucinations & catatonic states? Might explain the psychosis, though... thought Nick, printing his report to top off the file on his desk. With a stretch of his arms and legs he free-twirled in his chair, grunting at a job well done; eventually, his chair slowed to face away from his computer, and at Chief Bogo.

"Wilde!" barked the chief, straightening the fox in his seat by voice alone, "Frolic on your own time."

"Yes sir," stated the fox promptly, snapping to attention in his seat, "I'll be more careful and relax only behind your back, sir."

"Shut it!" he warned, leaning forward with a furrowed brow, but then relaxing in his stance with an elbow slung over the cubicle wall, "But that's not why I'm here. I came by to let you know that your last day of community service was nixed; for good behavior."

"Why, Chief, that's awfully generous of you," remarked Nick, genuinely surprised by the stroke of luck, "Another day of selflessness and the fox community would've banished me."

"I know a decent cop when I see one," said Chief Bogo, and then noticing the report on the fox's desk with an expectant arch of his eyebrows. Following the police chief's gaze, Nick picked up the folder and leaned in with an extended arm, the Cape buffalo lazily watching him before accepting it. Wordlessly, Bogo stood back and skimmed - unbothered to even put on his reading glasses - closed the folder, and then walked off without sparing another minute of attention for Officer Wilde.

Freed from scrutiny, Nick returned to his computer screen to look busy, unsure what to do with all of his newfound free time. Maybe I'll sleep in for the first time in years, he considered, Or clean my disaster area of an apartment. Now that I'm an upstanding citizen, I should start acting like one. It took all his self-control not to burst into laughter at that gem of an idea. Maybe I'll check in on Finnick, see what he's up to... Despite his outward coolness, a sigh huffed out his nostrils, knowing exactly who he needed to visit...

Later that day, out on the streets and in his plain clothes (today's ensemble a bright orange tropical shirt with a black tie and faded blue jeans) Nick met with Judy, she in an navy blue tank top and white capris. "Carrots, I was wondering when you'd show up," he said, "I thought rabbits were supposed to be fast?"

"Nick Nick Nick," she sighed, "this is Zootopia, where 'anyone can be anything'; if I want to take my merry time leaving the precinct, then I have the right - no, the duty - to do so."

"And here I thought you got lost, or stepped on. I was worried."

"Aww, I didn't know you cared, Slick," she pined dramatically.

"Oh, of course; I care about no rabbit more than you," he said, pinching his index and thumb together, "It's only by about that much, which may not seem a lot but it is, for a fox."

"So, I heard you got tomorrow off!" she said, a slight bounce in her step as their customary banter finished.

"I think the whole precinct heard I got tomorrow off; his voice carries remarkably," Nick said, recalling Chief Bogo's message from earlier.

"That and I can hear nearly everything that happens in the precinct."

"Like... up on the roof?" he asked cautiously, but coolly.

"Not that far, and out on the street is an incoherent mess, but I can catch conversations from nearly any room in the building, depending on where I stand in the lobby."

"So, the male locker room is..."

"I stay out of earshot, if I can help it," she said with shiver, "I swear, no matter the species, you males are disgusting when you think no one's paying attention."

"Fart jokes?" smirked the fox, inwardly sighing with relief.

"Everything jokes; it's like the y-chromosome can't develop past puberty."

"Tangible bodily expulsions are how we males communicate. Why, I've carried on quite the conversation using only belches and snorts."

"Sounds utterly delightful," chided Judy, rolling her eyes and desperate to change the topic of conversation, she pulled something from her duffel bag. "By-the-way, I got this coupon for half-off a junior scoop at Jumbeaux's. Wanna split it?"

"Do I want to gorge myself on ice cream until it's spewing from my ears, and still have enough left over to fill my freezer for the next week? Yes, 100%," he said with that patronizing grin.

Nick's Jumbo-pop stunt convinced the ice-cream parlor elephant that he and Judy were a con-artist team; one tries to buy while the other comes in with a fake badge, citing some obscure violation. During the pred-scare under Ex-mayor Bellwether, Judy made amends with Jumbeaux by convincing a health inspector that the place was up to code; it was the one time she was glad for her temporary clout, especially since she was likely the cause of that spontaneous inspection. So, she gets coupons every now-&-then for discount junior scoops (it's the thought that counts).

As it turned out, Nick got an elephantine sample spoon (and slipped a few singles into the tip jar) while Judy noticed the "Pawpsicles", a product which - understandably - caught her off guard. They sat in the cooled display case above the Jumbo-pops, with a child's scrawl of their 4 dollar charge and a picture of a smiling, saluting fennec fox in an old, hand-me-down Junior Ranger Scouts uniform. "It's a new Zootopia," explained Jumbeaux, "I donate materials to a local Junior Ranger Scouts group and they make 'em into these 'Pawpsicles'. Aren't they adorable?" he said with a wink.

"Now where did he get that idea, I wonder..." Judy said, purchasing a blue Pawpsicle while glancing sidelong at Nick, who smiled innocently and turned towards the door, licking his sample spoon scoop.

"See you tomorrow, Nick," said Judy when they arrived at the street that split their paths, "Or do you need more time to ease yourself into the concept of a 'day-off'?"

"No rest for the wicked, I'm afraid," lamented the grinning fox, "but I'll meet you for the evening train to Bunnyburrow."

"Yes!" gleed the rabbit, practically vaulting over him, "My parents wanted to see you again ever since the concert. Oh, this is gonna be great!" and then she hopped off, waving enthusiastically before dashing to the Grand Pangolin Arms. Nick shook his head amusedly, paws in his pockets.

So, I get to see the folks... thought the fox, turning down an alleyway towards his apartment. He knew he wouldn't be their first positive fox experience, Judy practically bragged about Gideon Grey and his bakery, but to see them face-to-face, the rabbits who raised the phenomenon that is Judy Hopps, he wondered, What would I say to them?

Savannah Central Station, the main hub for high speed rails to all of Zootopia and its outlying areas, like Bunnyburrow. 7:35pm, 3 minutes until the next train, and Nick was sauntering back from the ticket booth to an expectant Judy, "Are all foxes procrastinators, or is it only you?"

"I got my ticket didn't I?" said Nick in good humor, waving it in the air.

"There won't be any hotel rooms left, Sly," answered Judy, hoisting her suitcase as they boarded the train.

"Sure there will, Bunnyburrow is designed for a high capacity population. Look, all I need to do is open a hotel app I got last night aaaand..." he said, flopping down on a train bench and flicking his thumb across the screen, humming as he browsed, "Okay, that one's full, but we'll check the next hotel," the confident grin fading to impatient annoyance, "Nope, also full... full... full... Hmm..."

"Dumb fox," jabbed Judy.

"Luckily, being a fox, I have a certain knack for improvisation," he said, and opened up another app, "Hare B&B, for the traveler without a hotel reservation. Like I said, Bunnyburrow is designed for high capacity, there will be a spare room or closet for me, I'm sure. Lessee... full... full... no foxes, hmm... full... full... fu- Okay!" he barked, and stashed his phone.

Judy's eyes scanned him, but out of curiosity, "Don't you need a credit card for that app?"

"Yes?" Nick replied casually.

"Since when did you leave a paper trail?" she asked, scooting in closer on the bench.

"Since today," he explained, turning to face her with an elbow on the seatback, "I was not some laze about on my day off."

"Well, look at you, Slick," the rabbit admitted, mildly impressed, "if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were on your way to being a contributing member to society."

"It's a good thing you do know better, Fluff. Only the bare minimum societal contributions for me, I have an image to uphold after all."

"An image you'll gladly flaunt for all the bunnies of the world, hmm?"

"Not all, only the ones in Zootopia & Bunnyburrow," he insisted.

"That might as well be all, especially this weekend," Judy corrected, "It is the TBR, you know."

"Come again?"

"The Tri-Burrow Reunion. It happens once in a generation when all the bunnies in the Tri-Burrows area meet up in Bunnyburrow to get back to our roots. It's said to be the very first Burrow established by rabbits, back in-"

"Carrots," interrupted Nick, fingers at his temples, "When you said 'crowded' yesterday, you didn't say 'every rabbit ever'."

"Uh," Judy began awkwardly, "I thought you knew about the TBR, you seem to know, well, everything, so I naturally assumed you also knew about... uh..."

"Am I going to be the only non-rabbit there?" he asked their reflections on the dark window opposite of them.

"Well, no, of course not! Yes, most of other Burrow denizens go on vacation during the TBR, which is about 2 weeks at its height, but not everyone goes away. Oh!" she said, clapping her paws, "Gideon! Gideon probably won't go anywhere, you could stay with him!" She whipped out her phone and pulled up his contact info, dialing him up and crossing her fingers, "Please be there, c'mon..." Judy said, ignoring Nick's exaggerated sigh, "Gideon, hi!" she practically jumped in her seat, "Listen, I need a really big favor, and I'm sorry it's so last minute... No no no, I'm okay, no one's hurt, listen, you know it's the TBR this weekend, right? ... Are you staying in the Burrow for it?" she put her paw on the phone's mike and whispered at Nick, "So far, so good.

"Uh huh... " she continued, speaking into the phone once more, "Oh, I'd love to come visit, and speaking of visiting, you'll never guess who I'm bringing. Nick Wilde! ... Yeah, I know, right?" she seemed eager to get the conversation moving along, trying to find a good spot to ask, "Okay, so about that favor, Nick couldn't get a hotel room, and needs a place to stay... You will? Great! Oh, thank you, Gideon, I owe you big time... Yeah, we're arriving on the evening train ... Yeah, 10 o'clock ... Okay, see you then, buh-bye!" she said, and turned off the phone with a relieved sigh, "There, crisis averted."

"Something about frying pans & fires, I'm sure," huffed Nick.

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't say anything about the Reunion, but I'm sure you'll get along fine with Gideon," she reasoned, "He's a bachelor, you're a bachelor."

"He's a fox, I'm a fox," added Nick blandly.

"You both know me, and I have excellent taste in friends."

"Sly bunny," relented Nick, to which she smugly grunted and smiled.

"So, aside from building credit, what else did you do on your day off? I noticed your new shirt; you actually look halfway decent in purple."

"Oh... met with some old friends," he said, looking out the window with an expression Judy couldn't quite pin down, except that it was a positive feeling.

Though burning with curiosity, she did not inquire further, "That sounds like a nice story, one I'd like to hear someday."

Nick smugly grunted and smiled, "Soon enough, Carrots."


	2. Chapter 2

It was almost 10pm when the train finally arrived in Bunnyburrow Station and the foot-traffic died down to a sparse pattering. Awaiting their arrival were Judy's parents, Stu & Bonnie Hopps, as well as a splattering of brothers and sisters, and standing out like a buoy in the sea of rabbits, Gideon Grey. Her bright, purple eyes scanned to fall on her parents, leaping at them to embrace as her siblings, likewise, threw themselves upon her. Nick watched, unsure if he should laugh at the over-abundance of affection, or rest back on his heels and admire the familial display; sensibly, he picked up his & Judy's suitcase and stepped away from the train so it could close its door and slide off into the night.

His eyes met Gideon's, whom smiled cordially and waved a broad paw, though only high enough to be seen over the tall grass that was rabbit ears. He's been bunnified... thought Nick, but smiled and waved back. Nick already greeted the Hoppses, shaking paws and rattling off his practiced lines of meeting new people he wasn't trying to con (a growing list, these days); with Judy's rapport, Gideon's reformation, and his own prominence as the first fox in the ZPD, Nick could walk right into the family and be welcomed with open arms. His concern was not the family's acceptance, however; no, of all the denizens of Bunnyburrow, his concern was for the other fox in Judy's life, and the mysterious "Bo", boyfriend of Judy.

It's not jealousy, Nick assured himself, I'm Judy's partner on the force, after all, and she the first bunny cop. It's my responsibility to see potential dangers where she cannot, for the sake of not only her reputation, but all rabbits'. For several minutes, the Hopps family swarmed him in greeting until he feigned a yawn and explained what a long day it certainly was. To the best of his knowledge, Nick could not recognize any of the bunnies as the farm boy in the selfie-shot on Judy's phone, and while he wanted to ask about Bo - perhaps on the pretense of teasing Judy - he knew that Gideon was watching him; a fox is a fox, however bunnified.

"How's Bo's ankle?" asked Judy, after Nick finished the rounds of pawshaking, Stop reading my mind, Carrots.

"Oh, he's fine, he's a strong boy," said Bonnie.

"Yeah, practically had to strap him to the bed to keep him off that foot," explained Stu, "Almost bolted the bed to the floor, too. He is eager to see you, though, so bring him some tea and crackers when you get home."

"After you put your stuff away, and had something to eat. Train food gives you the gurgles, you know," explained Bonnie, earning some muffled giggles from the assortment of siblings.

"Mom!" quietly exclaimed Judy, grabbing up her suitcase and forcing a smile, "Let's head on home, then, before any more of my idiosyncrasies come to light. C'mon, c'mon, no point standing around on the platform. G'night Nick, Gideon, see you tomorrow!" And with that, the Hoppses were piling into the family van, and driving away.

"Ayeup," said Gideon, tossing a thumb over his shoulder, "I'm parked back here."

"Is there any truth to rabbits popping out of the ground, like cicadas?" asked Nick, toting his suitcase to follow.

"Never seen it myself," remarked the stouter fox, "but the timing matches up."

"Word is you're a baker, and making an honest name for yourself, no less."

"So says the van," replied Gideon, clapping his palm on the side of his vehicle, emblazoned with the business logo of 'Good Baked Stuff' and a smiling pie, "but don't go telling about my 'honest name', I've a reputation to protect."

"Perish the thought," dreaded Nick, handing his suitcase to his host to stow it in the back of the van. Taking shotgun, Nick sniffed and turned to the driver when he stepped in, "A fan of cinnamon, Gideon?"

"Some of us use more than fruit juice in our sweets, Nick," he smirked, and started the engine.

"Not that I was complaining, simply observing." And observe he did. While the driver kept his eyes on the headlight-illuminated country road, the passenger's gaze averted only to blink, a silent period of contemplation and concluding. "Hmm," Nick simply grunted.

"'Hmm'?" grunted Gideon in response, "Care to share, or are you keepin' to your quietness?"

"Nothing to share you don't already know, or that Judy already told me."

"Go on, don't leave us hangin'."

"What's her name?" asked Nick.

"'Her'?" asked the driver, glancing to his passenger.

"Your sister."

"Esther," he relented after flinching, "I s'pose if Judy told ya' I had a sister, she'd've mentioned her name. What gave it away?"

"Let me know if I get anything wrong: you're a farmyard predator and were big for your age, so you relied on ferocity, unlike clever foxes that grow up around larger predators. But, whoopsie, there were other pred kids that grew up bigger than you, so you had to hone your wit or else ride that spiral of violence into eventual self-harm. Obviously, you dropped the bully act and somehow endeared yourself to the 99% rabbit population of Bunnyburrow through a means which eventually lead to your current profession; luckily for you, there was someone who took great pleasure in sharpening their own wit on the whetstone of a brother that was young Gideon, which gave you the best chance to sly up and fox right via reciprocation. Since the side of the van doesn't say 'Grey Bros. Bakery', I'd wager you have a sister whom, much like Officer Fluff, wanted more out of life than the farm and took her good grades to Zootopia to become Esther Grey, defense attorney."

Gideon's eyes tried to stay on the road as he pulled into the lot behind his bakery/apartment. His brow furrowed as he parked and killed the engine, keen night-time eyes studying Nick. "I'd say she put you up to this, but I can smell her schemes from a mile off," he stated, face softening into a smile, "How d'you know her?"

"Police officer; I come across her name every now and then, in case a pred needs legal counsel. I figured she was cousin, since not many bother to move from the farm to the city, but meeting you cleared up your relation to her."

"Fancy that, she's visiting this weekend, so you'll get a chance to meet her, too."

"Oh, she's one of the lucky ones to grab a hotel in this fluff-storm?"

"She didn't say," shrugged Gideon, stepping out of the driver's seat and towards the back of the van, "but she's got some friends in town she can stay at."

"Well, that's a leg up on me," admitted Nick, slipping out of the passenger seat to retrieve his suitcase.

"No need to be so glum, Stretch, you got Judy."

"Yeah, I guess I do," he said, voice softening some while grabbing his luggage. Gideon closed the van door as he gawked at Nick, "Ohh!" the stouter fox suddenly gasped as he cupped a paw to his smile.

"Clawhauser, when did you get here," said Nick dryly.

"You like Judy!"

"Well, yes, we're friends & partners, of course I like her," evaded the taller fox.

"Nuh-uh, you know exactly what I'm talkin' 'bout. You've got it bad for Hopps, no denyin'," he said, arms crossed over his chest with a much smugger smirk than before.

"Ours is strictly a professional & platonic relationship," denied Nick, "Full of buddy-cop moments and what-have-you."

"Yeah-huh, I seen the way you looked at her, if only for a moment."

"Pastry chef and love doctor, all rolled into one?"

"This is gonna get real awkward tomorrow with Bo," Gideon realized with a pause.

"It really won't," Nick replied stoically.

Gideon stood upright with a sharp inhale & arched eyebrows, and then grunted in affirmation, "In that case, let's get you inside, no need for us foxes to conspire in the dead of night like this. 'Fraid I only got a fold-out sofa for ya', though."

"I'm sure it's plenty comfortable," said Nick, returning to his casual grin, recalling his makeshift bed in a dresser-drawer back home.

"You know what you need? Some of my special 'Eat Yer Blues' blueberry pie," declared Gideon, walking up the wooden steps to his apartment above the bakery, "That'll do you right."

"I'm always right, Bangs," he stated, finally settling on a nickname, 'Doughboy' might be a bit too familiar; maybe later.

"Don't knock it 'til you try it," and with a flick of his finger, the dim light was on in his flat, better proportioned for a fox than Nick's apartment back in the city. Quaint, thought Nick, all the amenities a bachelor could want. His eyes quickly swept the room, spotting a photo of what was surely the fox family of four hanging above the couch. Father's a crafter, maybe carpenter, and roughly the size of a truck; mother stayed at home and did lot of baking herself, from the looks of it, no doubt where he got it from, probably a channel for 'unchecked rage and aggression'. "Bed's in there," Gideon said, pointing to the sofa as Nick put his bag next to it, "but first, pie."

"I don't have a choice in the matter, do I?"

"One bite, and then you can go to bed," he offered, pulling out three-quarters of a pie & a tub of what looked to be whipped cream from the fridge before nudging the door closed with his foot.

"Looks like you had a few 'Blues' to eat yourself," smirked Nick.

"Nah, I jus' like it, is all," replied Gideon. Pulling a knife from the counter, he cut a slice from the pie and set it on a plate from an overhead cabinet. Gideon popped the tub and took out a big wooden spoon to scoop up a mighty dollop of "Fresh, hand-whipped cream, none of that canned stuff. Don't get me wrong, it has its time & place, but that place ain't here, since it's a special occasion," and topped off the pie, "Got a whole vat of it prepped for the TBR." Finally, he set a fork on the plate and slid the whole shebang over to his guest before serving himself a similar portion. Nick quirked a brow as he picked up the fork, breaking off a piece of blueberry pie topped by whipped cream, and brought it up to his mouth. "Nick?" asked Gideon.

All of Nick's mental training crumbled like the pie crust in his mouth, eyes rolling back through his skull and loosing a muffled moan as he spread the whipped cream and blueberry concoction across his tongue, nearly inhaling it as his lips wiped the fork clean. "I know someone at the precinct that would run here from Zootopia if he knew this pie existed," said Nick, forking a larger piece to eat. He licked pie-bits from his lips and looked down at the blueberry carnage that was his slice of 'Eat Your Blues'.

"Gosh," remarked the stouter fox, "I don't s'pose you'd want another slice, Stretch? You could use some meat on them bones."

"Well, if you're going to twist my arm," said Nick, sliding his plate back over the table for another helping. Gladly, Gideon set his own utensil and unfinished pie aside to serve up a larger piece of crumbly-crust treat topped with a mightier dollop of whipped cream.

"Now, let's hear about you and Judy," pried Gideon, returning to his own dessert.

"Honestly, there's not a lot to tell," replied Nick, literally sugared up by the baker's decadence, "She's one of the first mammals to earn my trust in a long, long time."

"Is she really?" Gideon murmured, though around his fork as he kept at his pie, ears up and forward at such admittance. "A bunny earning a fox's trust; I've now seen everything."

"Aren't you in business with the Hoppses?"

"That's business, Stretch; you know it ain't the same thing. Sure, I trust that they'll provide me with their fruits & veggies, and, ya'know, I'm sure they'd come to help me if I ever got in trouble - of course, I'd do the same for them - but it's... not really the same as trusting someone. You know what I mean?"

"Unequivocal trust."

"That, that's the word, what you just said," interjected Gideon, waggling the handle of his fork across the table, "I don't have that kind of trust with them, strictly a business kind of trust. I mean... I don't know how they can trust me after what I did, after everything I did. I feel like I'm still earning their trust, but I'm okay with that."

"Well then," chuckled Nick, "and I thought I was supposed to be the talkative one." Gideon gave him a furrowed brow and a smirk, eating another bite of blueberry goodness. "So, here I go: she saved my life in Tundratown & Rainforest District, granted, I likely wouldn't be there if not for her, but she still saved my life, even though on both occasions, she could've easily let me fall to save her hide.

"I opened up to her, bared everything, and then she broke my trust." He tapped his fork on the plate, contemplating his next bite. "But she earned it again, and I wanted to trust her again." His eyes, once cast to the blueberries covered in crumbly crust, rose to glare across the table. "Even after she betrayed me, Gideon, I trusted her again. Who does that? What rational mind decides to trust someone that betrayed them?" His eyes softened with a sigh.

"Milk?"

"Please."

"Me too," agreed Gideon, rising as though to give Nick some privacy, ducking into the fridge for a bit longer than is needed to fetch some milk, and continued taking his time retrieving two glasses from the overhead cabinet. A tall, frosty glass was set down for Nick, whom nodded his thanks and took a swig, and then looked into the glass, "2%?"

"I'm trying to cut back," grunted Gideon with a smile, patting his stomach.

"Since you've plied me with this delicious pie, I don't mind confiding in you. Yes, I am in love with Judy Hopps. No, I am not jealous of her boyfriend 'Bo'," and took the final bite of his slice, "I'll get over it."

"Mama would smack a big wooden spoon under my tail whenever she caught me lying," Gideon said casually, to which Nick glanced up at the handle sticking out of the whipped cream tub, "Always said 'foxes got enough distrust from the rest of the world, they don't need it from each other'." He finished up the rest of his own pie and stood to gather up the dishes.

"Okay, I'm jealous of Bo, but I will get over it."

"That ain't what I meant," Gideon said, sitting back down in a chair nearer to Nick, "I might've misspoke earlier, and I'm sorry if I mislead you at all, but what I meant was you've let your guard down around her, Nick. It's written all over your face, and I don't know if it's 'love', but it's makin' you do some dumb things, blinding you, and you can't afford that; neither can she. You said she earned your trust twice, Stretch, and that's unheard of for a fox, so I don't know what that does, but you gotta keep your wits about you, otherwise, 'eh..." he sat up and gestured to himself, "you might do something really stupid."

"What did you put in that pie? I feel like I'm tripping, or something," responded Nick.

"Hush up," snarled Gideon, but playfully, "you might have your street smarts but I've got my country wisdom, stuff you don't learn in the big city, stuff only us 'farmyard foxes' know about. We have our own way of dealing with a whole lot of prey, like you have your way of dealing with big preds. Now, I get that bigger preds are mean and scary because they can snap you half like a twig, but there's a power to prey in large numbers, and dealing with them is different, because there are so many of them. They're darn near everywhere, and they hear darn near everything.

"That's why us foxes gotta stick together, Nick," he said, chair gently scraping as he scooted closer, reaching out a paw to grip his shoulder, "If we can't trust each other, who can we trust?"

He's not wrong, Nick considered, his eyes rolling up thoughtfully, if tiredly.

"Nick?" said Gideon, leaning in, his voice soft and comforting, "You okay, Nick?" He smiled that simple farm boy smile, paw moving up from his shoulder to caress at his neck and throat. "Well," replied Nick, "it's been a long, tiring day..."

"Don't go fading on me, Stretch," continued Gideon, his other paw reached out and touched the slender chest, tugging at the knot of his necktie to loosen it and drape it over Nick's shoulder, before both paws pulled open his new shirt to expose the white fur beneath. He leaned in to rest his cheek upon Nick's chest, looking intently up at him, and then cupped his chin in a careful paw. Gideon's face was now nearer Nick's, feeling his breath on the muzzle, and then their lips touched, holding for one breath, pulled back for a gasp, and then held together once more.


	3. Chapter 3

He's pinching my nose, why is he pinching my nose? thought Nick, since thoughts – thinking in general, actually – came easier with each passing instant. For example, the realization he was not sitting in a chair, but lying on the ground, and Gideon was not tenderly caressing his chest but compressing his rib-cage in a most uncomfortable manner, counting off each time he did it.

"Darn it, Nick, you get back here right now!" shouted Gideon, whom tilted Nick's chin back and clasped his nostrils before breathing into his mouth once, twice...

"Gah!" Nick gasped, and then coughed, and then gasped and coughed with quick, shallow breaths as he flailed on the ground, claws scraping across the kitchen linoleum.

"You're okay, Nick, you're okay!" tried Gideon, leaning over and pinning Nick to the floor in an attempt to calm him.

Calm he did, albeit after a few thrashes beneath the heavier fox, eyes darting and then focusing in the dim light. "That's a matter of opinion," muttered Nick as he took longer, deeper breaths, "What was in that pie?"

"The pie? You took one bite of it and fell out of your chair! I panicked and wasn't sure whether to call the ambulance or not, because it might've not gotten here in time," worried Gideon, the fear still fresh in his eyes. Nick looked down at himself, paws assuring he was all there; as he sat up he re-buttoned his shirt and straightened his tie while a tense silence fell between the foxes. "How you doin' there, Stretch?" Gideon finally asked.

"How much of that conversation happened?" replied Nick after a moment of thought.

"Well, umm... there wasn't much in the way of conversation, you went out after I told you about my 'hand-whipped cream', but I guess you're doing better, now," recounted the baker, chuckling nervously, but visibly relieved as he stood up and let out a heavy sigh. "Don't scare me like that; it's bad manners," huffed Gideon, holding out a paw to assist Nick to his feet, "I know my sofa ain't the Ratz Carlton, but it's gotta be better than a hospital bed."

Nick cleared his throat once he was upright, "I don't know what got into me," he said, glancing at the 'Eat Your Blues' sitting on the kitchen table, and then to Gideon's slice, which also had a bite taken out of it. It didn't affect him; I watched him cut that pie, and he didn't have the idea to serve it until I got here, which itself was last-minute.

An awkward silence returned between them, Gideon pivoting to gather up the remainder of the blueberry pie to toss it into the trash, "Must be some bad berries. Best get some sleep, we'll see if there're any other, ya'know, symptoms."

If he wanted to off me, he would've simply let me go, thought Nick. "Some pretty bad berries; disagreeable food usually waits a few hours before giving the 'gurgles'," quipped Nick, closing the tub of whipped cream and putting it back in the fridge; he studied the big wooden spoon a moment before bringing it over. "Mom used to smack me under the tail with something like this if she caught me lying," tested Nick, handing it to Gideon, whom answered him with a quirked brow.

"She caught you lyin'?" he teased, "Ma wouldn't use her utensils for that, she had a plenty hard spank without 'em. She always said, 'if a fox can't trust other foxes, who can they trust?'." With that, he left the dishes in the sink, "I'll wash 'em tomorrow, after I make waffles."

"I can't believe I'm saying it, but no blueberries this time," smirked Nick.

"I got all other produce I can use," chuckled Gideon, "I ain't a one-berry baker, there're all sorts of exciting things I can try."

"Well," yawned Nick, stretching his arms over his head, "I think that's plenty of excitement for today, so I'm going to thoroughly brush my teeth, and then hit the hay."

"I can warm up a glass of milk for ya', that always helps me sleep."

"Su-... actually, I'll pass for now, thanks."

"A'ight; you can have the washroom first, it's through there," Gideon offered, pointing at an ajar door, "Connects to both rooms." Indeed it did, as Nick found out, finishing up the barebones lay-out of the baker's apartment; upon entry, it was the living room with a couch, television set and bookcase, after a hardwood foyer and immediate closet, and then the kitchen in the corner behind a load-bearing wall, while off in the back corner was Gideon's bedroom (the farther door on the other side of the couch, the nearer one was the washroom). In the sanctity of the tiled enclosure, Nick closed both doors and got out his toiletries, ears swiveling towards the living room as he heard the sounds of simple machinery at work, He must be folding out the bed, concluded the slender fox, opening up a zip lock baggie with a toothbrush held within.

Let's think this through, considered Nick, kicking off his nightly ritual by disrobing and hanging up his nice shirt, I take one bite of blueberry pie and go into a hallucinated conversation with Gideon. Gideon didn't know I know I was coming until about 2 hours ago, but he knows I'm a cop; Judy saw to that, I'm sure. Even if he did put psychotropic drugs in that pie, he wouldn't dare feed it to me and risk getting arrested. Whatever's in that pie isn't affecting him, so he might not know about it. I'll investigate the Hopps farm tomorrow, and tell Carrots as discretely as possible. He was foaming at the mouth with lathered up toothpaste, jaw open wide to get the fangs way in the back before spitting and rinsing. Down to his skivvies, Nick returned to the living room to find his sleeping space finished with sheets & a pillow, "Well now, maybe this is the Ratz Carlton," he said with a smirk, "I've got my shirt hanging in there to smooth out."

"Fine by me," replied Gideon, "Not one for pajamas?"

"I got my shorts, don't I?" grinned Nick.

"Don't dress up on my account." He was over at the front door with the main light switch, and flicked it off. The darkness cleared almost instantly for the foxes, which only needed the indirect moonlight from the window to traverse the room.

"It's a special occasion," said the taller fox with an air of playful pretence, pantomiming to straighten his tie. The fold-out bed housed faults common to its ilk: a flat pillow and a horizontal bar between sagging parts. To Nick, it was comfortable enough, snuggling beneath musty sheets with a content grin, It's no dresser drawer, but it'll do, he pondered, glancing up at Gideon.

"Want me to tuck you in, Stretch?"

"I think I can manage," and folded his paws behind his head, staring up at the ceiling as his host disappeared into the bedroom. The light flicked on in the bathroom, followed soon by the telltale preparatory sounds for sleeping, and then the heavier fox climbing in bed to almost instantly falling asleep. Like a rock, that one, chuckled Nick, 'Special occasion', huh? Every bunny ever is in Bunnyburrow all next week, so there's - undoubtedly - a good deal of business for someone like Gideon, doubly so with everyone else skipping town. Special occasion... his brow furrowed, 'Special occasion'...? and then he sprang sitting up and stared at the fridge. Whipped cream! Gideon ate the pie but he didn't eat the whipped cream, yet; he stopped short of it. He considered if that was intentional, but wouldn't know until waffles tomorrow, Whipped cream goes great on waffles, so I can watch his reaction to it. He slid off the bed and crept over to the kitchen, ears on alert for any waking signs from Gideon; at the sink, Nick studied the pile of dishes, and hesitated to what he needed to do next. If I fall this time, I won't have the kiss-of-life to save me, and swiped the smallest bit of blueberry pie filling he could from a dish, and steeled himself to dab it upon the tip of his tongue.

Mmh~, considered the slender fox, licking his lips and instantly regretting he couldn't properly enjoy such a heavenly treat. He waited a moment, and ran a trickle of water from the faucet onto his paws before rubbing his eyes. After yanking his ear and checking his pulse, he concluded that it was not the 'Eat Your Blues' which did him in. Tentatively, he reached for the big wooden spoon, and took an iota of the whipped white crowning it to bring it up to his tongue.

Eyelids grew heavy and knees weakened at a sway, the sink's adjacent window buckled away from him; dropping the spoon, Nick scrambled for the faucet to throw the handle back, cupping as much water in his joined paws so he can throw it on his face. He gasped, bracing the sink with slow, deep breaths, Definitely the whipped cream... he yanked and twisted both of his ears until he nearly yelped, assuring himself that he was not only standing but also conscious, Okay, good, this is good, I'm still awake.

"Speaking of," came a familiar voice behind him, "you've been up an awful long while and need some shut-eye." Mortified, Nick spun around and nearly scurried onto the counter, eyeing a fully-clothed Gideon sitting on the other side of the table. "Don't worry, Stretch, you're not dead, nor are you dyin'."

"I'm hallu-," Nick began, stopped to glance at the bedroom door, and then whispered, "In that case I'm hallucinating, which considering the circumstances, isn't too much better. By the way, why are you wearing my clothes, and how come they fit you?"

Indeed, Gideon was in Nick's green palm-frond shirt, which the stouter fox inspected, before adjusting the accompanying tie, "Look at me, aren't I a big-city fox, wearing fancy duds and everything.

"Best you can figure, I'm a lingering side-effect of whatever was in that whipped cream, yeah?" he began, relaxing in the chair with an arm over the back, gesturing to the seat across from him, "Why don't you sit down, give us a chance to chat."

"Because that would make me crazy."

"Crazy like a fox?"

"No, just crazy," asserted Nick, "I will heed reason and get to bed, though, now that I've discovered the suspicious whipped cream. There isn't anything more I can do about it now, not with Gideon... the real Gideon... soundly snoozing." He walked around the table, giving that side of it a wide berth, not even turning his head to address it, "And don't follow me." After a moment of silence, and half-climbing into the fold-out bed, Nick looked over his shoulder at the empty chair, watching it as he tucked himself back in. Must be almost midnight, by now... he thought, loosing a heavy sigh as his head lay on the pillow, and then turned to his stomach so that the horizontal bar beneath the mattress wasn't as noticeable, Don't come too soon, 'Tomorrow', I still need my beauty sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

'Tomorrow' came in its own time with a steely-gray glare spilling through the living room onto a motionless fox. When the light was a bit more golden, Nick stirred and slowly recalled his current location, Oh right, fold-out bed, he realized, going through the full motion of exiting sleep into the waking realm, eventually stretching his arms while standing upright. After another yawn, he smacked his lips and toddled over to the bathroom, brain bogged down with thoughts of the prior night. Stumbling into dim light from the overhead window, he looked at a suds-upped Gideon sitting in the bathtub, whom nearly jumped from his stool; Nick continued to the sink and washed his face. A waking dream, are we? considered Nick, using his toothbrush for a quick breath refresher.

"Ummm..." mumbled Gideon, clearing his throat, "Good morning, Nick."

"Yep, it certainly is," responded Nick, reaching into his suitcase and pulling out a larger brush to smooth out his fur, doing his best to sound sincere, "Sleep well, all things considered?"

"Well, sure, still a bit shook after what happened, but no worse for the wear," he replied, cautiously relaxing to continue scrubbing. "So, uhh, yep, up and about, that's good."

"Today's the day, my dear Dawson, that we delve into 'The Mystery of the Suspicious Whipped Cream'," he said, examining himself in the mirror before dropping his drawers to change into some fresh clothes.

"Ummm..." repeated Gideon, unsure which concern to address first, only to stumble about with mostly incoherent stutters.

Nick turned to face him, paws on his hips, and then closed the few steps between them to squat down in that familiar, condescending posture of his, "What, does this make you uncomfortable? It's nothing you haven't seen before, and this doesn't even hit my 'Top-10' of awkward situations."

Gideon's ears were back with wide eyes and a worried frown, but then quickly turned his head to attempt indifference, "I didn't realize we were so familiar with one another, is all," he mumbled, clumsily attempting to scrub his tail.

A bubble popped on the tip of Nick's nose with cascading realizations, including the more important This is the real Gideon, not a hallucination or a dream. His blood ran cold while his fur, skin, and bones each attempted to flee in different directions.

"So..." began Gideon, turning his head back around to face Nick, whom snapped to a relaxed posture, casually fishing through his suitcase for undergarments, "what is on your 'Top-10'?"

The slender fox's mouth smirked with all the nonchalance he could muster, and pulled out a pair of clean boxers to begin dressing, "Well, as I'm sure you've heard from Judy, the Otterton Case brought us to a nudists' colony. One walk through there and you've got numbers 3 through 6, easily."

"Hah!" gasped Gideon, now turning to face Nick, whom was thankful he was already searching his suitcase for the next article of clothing, "She did not say it was a nudey camp!" he loosed a hearty laugh, giving the side of the tub a whack with his scrub brush, Crisis averted... sighed Nick, laughing along as he pulled out some clean pants to continue dressing. "All this time I thought there was some... hippy farm in the middle of Zootopia when she said 'naturalist club'. Hoo-boy, I'm gonna have a fun time with that one!"

"Go easy on our cottontail, Bangs, she handled it like a champ," he chuckled, buttoning up his shirt in the mirror to avoid looking at the still bathing fox, especially when he utilized the low shower head to rinse himself off. By the time Gideon was standing to reach for a towel, still chuckling to himself, Nick was already exiting and fixing his tie. The handheld fur-dryer hummed beyond the (closed) bathroom door as Nick went about folding the bed back up, if anything, to keep himself occupied. The heavy footsteps and residual merriment moved into the bedroom, another relieved sigh leaving Nick's mouth that his host decided not to walk by in a towel. Great way to start things off, brooded Nick, whipping out his phone to check up on the daily news, at least there's decent cell service.

In a matter of minutes, Gideon was walking to the kitchen in a light-colored flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbow, and a pair of ragged denim jeans. Rolling off the sofa, Nick followed to study the baker, whom walked right past the sink (and the dirty dishes therein) to reach under the counter for his waffle iron, also pulling out a mixing bowl, whisk, spatula, eggs milk, flour... Nick blinked and lost track of everything Gideon retrieved; he was already cradling the mixing bowl to whip the creamy batter, and accumulated a small pile of used dishes.

After pouring the first soon-to-be waffle on the hot waffle iron, he set the bowl down and reached into the sink to pull out the big wooden spoon from the night before, smirking, "Had yerself a late-night lick, Basil?" he said, showing the clearly disturbed whipped cream at the scoop-end of the utensil, "Must've been investigative work for 'The Mystery of the Suspicious Whipped Cream'."

Nick flinched, but relented, "Alright, you caught me." He's already seen me naked, after all, can't get much more exposed than that, and if shenanigans were really going down in Bunnytown I don't have time to beat around the bush. I was hoping to get away from work this far out from Zootopia, but the ZPD never really rests, does it, he thought, turning a chair around to straddle it, arms folded on the back as he leaned forward. "I don't think it was the blueberries that nearly knocked me out last night; I think it was the whipped cream. Now, why do you have a vat of it?"

Gideon froze in remembering that he hosted an officer of Zootopia's Finest; the wooden spoon slipping from his grip and clattering in the sink to kick him out of his stunned state. "That... this sounds serious, should I sit down?" he asked, fingers twiddling under a severe frown.

"You should keep an eye on the waffles so they don't burn," replied Nick, sparing a smug grin at the corner of his lips.

Gideon's response was both informative and entertaining, especially when he spun about and addressed the waffle iron as though it were an active bomb, sniffing at it intently, "Okay, not burning," he reported with a sharp breath.

Pulling out a chair, Gideon sat heavily across the table from Nick and folded his paws, looking like a suspect at an interrogation; to which Nick glanced calmly and said, "Exhale, Bangs, exhale."

To this, the stouter fox gasped as he remembered how to breath, strong paws wringing together in tangible nervousness, "Okay," began Gideon, "about a month ago, Tad - he owns the pawn shop a few blocks over - gave me the idea to host a pie-eating contest for the TBR, said it'd be great publicity for my shop and would, ya'know, shine me in a good light to all the visiting rabbits. According to him, he already got the 'go-ahead' from the organizers for it, only needed the pies to make it real. I was tickled pink to help, because goodness knows I wouldn't mind the extra business, and I could make littler pies, a good 2 or 3 for each normal pie; I made a hundred in that time, no problem, put 'em all in cold storage."

"And the vat of whipped cream?"

"I'm getting to that," assured Gideon, but his nostrils flared as he sniffed and stood to tend the waffle iron.

This gave Nick a chance to chew on some of the details, So, who's this 'Tad' character, owner of the pawn shop a few blocks over?

"There, gold-&-crispy," said Gideon, the waffle coming off as easily as a lid from a box, which he set on a plate and put a cover over to keep warm, before spraying the griddle and pouring on another waffle. He seemed much more relaxed when he sat back down. "Lessee... right, the vat of whipped cream. Well, Tad and I were talking about what kind of pies they should be, should they be all the same or what, and we started laughing about how a proper pie-eating contest should be as messy as it can be, right? So, he suggested I whip up some of my 'famous hand-whipped cream' for the contest. Now, I'm pretty proud of that whipped cream," he said, lifting an arm and flexing it, patting the bicep that bulged under his pelt, "Built that up after years of whipping cream and kneading dough," and then flexed his other arm, "And for the other side, too."

"Anyway," insisted Nick.

"Anyway," agreed Gideon, "so I got this vat of whipped cream sitting in cold storage with a bunch of li'l pies, because Tad said that the contest is supposed to be early in the week, and pies don't keep forever, neither does whipped cream." His speech and gesticulations were more and more frantic as he spoke, until he sunk his head to touch the table, paws gripping his skull with a mournful groan, "And I jus' know it's all probably bad by now... You only had a li'l bit, and look at what happened," he said, lifting his head in a mixture of lament and apology, eyes misting up. "Imagine what'll happen to a bunch o' bunnies if they have this rotten whipped cream."

"First," he began, holding a single finger in the air, "if the whipped cream went bad, we'd have smelled it before we tasted it. Second," he continued, another finger in the air, "the worst thing it could've done if it did go bad was cause nausea or vomiting, not hallu- I mean... a black out. Third," the final finger of indication, waggling them in the air, but he didn't necessarily have a third point, he only wanted to draw attention away from his slip-of-the-tongue, "So far as we know, I'm the only mammal to ingest that stuff, so the pie-eating contest can go on without it, and none the wiser."

"I guess so..." he said with a throat-clearing grunt, sitting up gradually, "I mean, he did say it was better if it were a surprise, so there's no major loss if we go without it, because no one will know, right?"

'A surprise', huh? considered Nick. Gideon rose from his chair to inspect the waffle iron, if anything, to calm himself. If the whipped cream was tampered with, when did it happen and why didn't Gideon notice?

"Years of whippin', ya'know," reiterated a grinning Gideon, sitting adjacent to Nick and rolling back the sleeve of his green palm-frond button-up to flex his arm. Nick's blood ran cold for the second time that day, eyes darting from one Gideon to the other.

The real Gideon loosed a muffled expletive as a burnt smell rose into the air, "Gosh, sorry Nick," he said, taking out a wooden spatula and unplugging the iron to scrape it off, "You can go ahead and have the good one while I get this stupid thing cleaned off..."

"No, no, it's okay, I'll wait," the taller fox managed.

"That should give us a few minutes," the other Gideon said, putting his elbow on the table with his palm supporting a cheek, "So, Basil, how could Tricky Tad slip a mickey into something that an honest-to-a-fault guy, like Gideon over here, will spend hours making a few pints at a time?"

Nick didn't answer immediately, even biting his bottom lip to keep from saying anything aloud, Well, Dawson, it doesn't show up in whipped cream, so it's either colorless or off-white, and something that won't activate until it's thoroughly mixed, he pondered.

"It'd need more than a thorough mixing to 'activate'," snarked 'Dawson', "Gideon would taste every batch he made to check its quality."

So it activates with cold, because the whipped cream needs refrigeration to stay good.

"Really, you're sticking with 'activate'? What is this, alchemy? Some magical elixir that's stirred 7 times counterclockwise under a new moon?"

...No, of course not; it's a substance that's heavier than the cream and settles at the bottom, making it safe to drink when delivered. Whipping the cream mixes it in and then sets when refrigerated so it won't settle at the bottom again.

"Now there's some science."

It must be something that Gideon built up a resistance to, something here in Bunnyburrow, otherwise he'd black out as soon as he tasted it. By the time he finishes with each batch, the miniscule amount would've dispersed harmlessly through his system, especially with all the activity of whipping cream and that heavyset body of his. Even at the end of the day, he could hardly distinguish its effects from fatigue.

"A city-slicker like yerself, though..."

Needs only a dollop and it's lights out. Clearly, this is designed to hurt a whole lot of rabbits for the TBR festival next week.

"Not if a bunch of bunnies falling over unconscious after the first round."

I need to get a sample of that whipped cream to a lab and run some tests, find out what's in it.

"You ain't in forensics, Nick, and barely a beat cop; your schtick is sniffing out Howler Dens."

Hey, Nick furrowed his brow in frustration, I do as well a job on the force as any other cop, I can't help it that I have some kind of hyper-sensitivity to...Night Howler pollen... his brow furrowed deeper with introspection, Catatonic state & hallucinations...

Dawson's paws spread in the most obnoxiously condescending jazz-hands & exaggerated smile, with a painfully vibrant overhead rainbow arched between his palms.

My gosh, is this what it's like to talk with me?

"Yes, 100%," and he was gone, last word and all. Gideon - the real Gideon - turned around soon after, bringing about the largest, crispiest waffles Nick ever laid his eyes upon. His mood was lighter as he set the table with utensils and waffle-spreads, clearly relieved he wasn't being brought in for attempted murder or anything of the sort. There were some loose ends in that conversation, Nick realized, standing to turn his chair right-way forward and sitting once again, but he doesn't seem curious or aware of them. Hope that doesn't come back to bite me.

As promised, Gideon washed the dishes from the prior night after a waffle breakfast, I'd stay here a week if it meant I get more of those waffles, mused Nick, slumping contentedly in his chair with a muffled belch, wondering if he could convince the pastry chef to cook them again tomorrow morning, This time with blueberries.

"Well, sir," began the stouter fox in a comfortable farm boy drawl, looking over his shoulder, "that's the finest compliment I could think to get." He was elbows'-deep in suds as he scrubbed the dishes clean, adjacent window opened so the steam could escape without hindrance. Nick sat up when the sink drained as Gideon grabbed a towel to dry off his paws, "Oh, good, I was worried I'd have to give mouth-to-mouth again," he smirked.

"Only good-night kisses on the first date," tsk-tsked the taller fox, standing upright, "But if you keep making food like that, I might move in."

"Going a bit fast there, Stretch, we only met last night."

"You're right," Nick rubbed his chin, "the commute would be terrible."

"Besides, we wouldn't want to steal Judy's thunder from introducing you to Bo," chuckled Gideon.

"But then we could go on double-dates, and all those fun, modern things couples are doing these days."

"Sure, with a 200-mile long-distance relationship," he said, heading over to the door to grab up his keys from a bowl.

"Oh, that pesky geographical distance," Nick said with a dismissive wave of his paw as he followed the stouter fox outside, "Anything I should know about Bo?"

"That'd spoil the surprise."

"I've had my fair share of surprises this weekend, Bangs; I could do with a bit of foresight."

"Right, right..." mumbled Gideon, walking around to the driver's door of his van, "But if Judy tells you anything that sounds surprising, you'd best act surprised."

"Cross my heart & hope to die," promised Nick.

In the van, each pulled out a pair of sunglasses, for the drive to the Hopps Farm lead them towards the glare of a new dawn.


	5. Chapter 5

_(This takes place during Nick's day off.)_

Nick Wilde's living conditions remained from his days as a popsicle hustler, a this-side-of-squalor single-room apartment with a sink and a larger mammal's dresser, the bottom drawer fashioned into a bed. ' _Maybe someday I'll get myself a proper apartment,_ he considered, _Put some money away into a savings account, get a credit card, and then a mortgage, retirement fund...'_ He paused, setting down his duffel bag and slumping against the door of his apartment after a long day at the ZPD, dwelling on a thought that wasn't even on the back burners of his mind, but tucked into the overhead cabinet behind the wit and snark _._ He knew who he needed to visit on his day off.

Dawn cracked with sparse cloud cover and that morning chill still lingering in the air. Nick stirred from his make-shift bed, no alarm to wake him, simply a lifetime of early-days and sub-par sleeping conditions. He brushed his fangs for that charming smile, brushed his fur to appear presentable, and chose the least wrinkled shirt for his visit. After a quick breakfast of black coffee and a sesame seed bagel with cream cheese, Nick strode towards the Conifer District, mentally running through possible scenarios and appropriate responses.

Suitopia, read the sign, an established tailor shop for 25 years, Business Hours: 10am-7pm, closed Fridays. Nick knew the owner was taking inventory, as he always did on Fridays, but still hesitated from knocking on the _'CLOSED'_ door. After a deep breath, he stepped up and rapped on the wood- &-glass barrier. Nothing. He knocked again. Still, nothing. Undeterred, Nick cracked his knuckles and brought up both paws to the door, letting the tips of his claws touch it; quickly, lightly, he scratched at the glass pane in seeming panic, and then withdrew his paws behind his back into a relaxed stance. In a matter of seconds, he heard the pattering of feet and saw the curtain on the door-panel pull back, an older fox peeking out. His delighted expression softened when he saw Nick and called from behind the door, tapping at the _'CLOSED'_ sign, "We're closed!"

"C'mon, this is my only day off, and look at me," Nick said, gesturing to his clothes, "I'm all shabby and unkempt." The older fox grumbled, scanning from behind his glasses, "Oh, alright, get in here," he relented, unlocking the door to usher Nick inside, and then closing the door to re-lock it, "You look familiar; I've seen your face before, I'm sure."

"Well, I'm a fairly famous fox," explained Nick, looking around and then smiling over his shoulder, "first to join the ZPD."

"Ah yes, that 'Nick Wilde' fellow. I have a son named 'Nick', haven't seen him in ages, though, worries his mother & I half-to-death," griped the older fox, cleaning his glasses with a handkerchief he pulled from his vest pocket, which combined with his tailored cream-colored shirt and dark chocolate slacks, all came together in a very professional ensemble.

"Really?" remarked the younger fox, "What a coincidence, I have a dad named 'John' whose tailoring shop is, believe it or not, still standing." They faced each other and embraced, "Good to see ya', Dad."

"You too, Nicky," John said with a broad smile, leaning up to hug his son, who was always tall for a fox, "What brings you to my neck of the woods? It's not a holiday, is it?"

"Sort of," he said, leaning on the front counter as John leaned opposite of him, "As of today, I'm a respectable citizen of Zootopia."

"I'm proud of ya', son," John said, holding an elbow in one paw while the other gestured to his son, "Looks like you need a respectable suit."

"You have no idea," said Nick with a smirk and tugging at the collar of his shirt, "This thing's practically a dishrag, and I don't even have dishes to wash."

"Your mother would blow a gasket if she heard that," said John, exchanging a smirk, "C'mon, let's get you in the back and measured up. Maybe knowing how much you've grown will quell her ire, after I tell her about your lack of cutlery."

"You'll tell her no such thing! I rather like my head _not_ bitten off, thank you very much."

"Alright alright, chuck the shirt and stand on the pedestal," instructed John, grabbing up a notepad, tape measure, and tucking a pen behind his ear. Nick complied, undoing his tie and his best raggedy shirt, tossing both onto a chair before hopping up. "How's the air up there, son?" asked John, cupping his mouth at a mock yell, "Getting a little thin?"

"What?" Nick called back, cupping a paw around his ear, "I can't hear you from all the way up here." The two shared a chuckle at the younger fox's height, "Looks like the shop's doing well for itself," he said, lifting both arms as John measured his flanks.

"Hasn't burned down _yet_ ," replied John, looping the tape measure around Nick's waist, "It was touch-&-go during the pred-scare, so I closed up during the worst of it and kept Jackie company. She was really scared for you, more so than usual."

"Yeah, I'm sorry I didn't call. I was in the middle of that whole thing and drew into myself, hardly hustled a single Pawpsicle," he recalled, straightening up and putting his paws to his hips for the sleeve-lengths.

"Those Pawpsicles. You loved making them when you were a kid. As soon as you found out that you could turn apple juice into frozen treats, you did it with anything you could find. You tried it with vinegar once, remember?" said John, pulling a stool over with his foot in a graceful motion, and hopping up to reach Nick's shoulders and neck.

"I'd rather not remember that, if I can help it," he grimaced, "I still sent money, when I could."

"Nicky," John said, coming around and giving his son a stern quirked eyebrow, "we didn't want your money, we wanted _you_. All the money in the world doesn't make a lick of difference without _you_."

Nick blinked his stunned response. "So..." he finally said, "All that money is...?"

"In a savings account. We're not stupid," John said with a smirk, squatting to get his son's inseam, "Tall & gangly... your Mom's gonna stuff you full of food as soon as she sees you."

"Setting aside for retirement, are we?" remarked Nick, hopping down to sit on the pedestal as John reviewed the measurements, chewing his pen in that way he always did when concentrating. "No, we've got our own account for that. You sent us money, we assumed to keep it safe for you," said John offhandedly. Stunned again, Nick dropped his jaw, "Wait, you're saying I've been putting money into _my own_ savings account all these years?"

"Just like your Mom always wanted you to," John said slyly, waggling his pen over his shoulder as he returned to the front of the store, doubly pleased by such an incredulous look, "Onward, youngin', I'm fishing out a decent shirt for you."

"But I like this one," replied Nick, picking up his green, palm frond-print button-up, "It took me years to get so threadbare."

"Your mother needs another dishrag, and that'll do the trick. Besides, we're heading to the bank today to see how much you have in that savings account of yours, and you'll need a proper suit."

"Wait, we're doing that _today_? I thought it'd be a nice, easy day of eating scones and drinking tea, or watching TV and drinking beer; depending on whether I spent the day with you or Mom," said Nick, and then adding, "respectively."

"Nicky, your mother & I have a _lot_ of parenting to catch up on, and the first step is to make sure you're prepared for the real world. Now, we did a mighty fine job of putting your money away for you, but you're all grown up, so we need to show you how to make proper use of it," explained John.

"And how long will this suit of mine take? I _am_ freakishly tall."

"I like a challenge," stated John, "Now, you don't know what you like when it comes to suits, and since it's been so long since I've seen you, I'll need to get a proper image of what you'd look like in one." He ushered his son over to an off-white screen, "Stand there and look relaxed, without slouching," he instructed, stepping back with his phone held up, "And... there," took a snap-shot and brought it over to the counter.

Nick was surprised at how quickly that went, remembering the numerous sample suits his father would hold up in front of a client to conceptualize what looked good on them. He peeked over John's shoulder as the graying fox swiped one suit after the next across the digital image. "Aren't _you_ full of surprises," Nick remarked, "Is that a tailoring app?"

"Nice, 'eh? A raccoon friend of mine - he's about your age - made it up for me. Still some bugs in it, irregular postures tends to muck things, but very handy, and it frees all that space from storing sample suits; the rodent suits weren't bad, it was the pachyderms which filled up my shop."

"Talk about your niche apps," said the younger fox, _Odd, such an advanced app is beyond anything on the market today, and who's this 'raccoon friend' of yours, Dad? If he were the_ son _of a friend, you would've said so; you must know him directly. Though, someone my age?_

" _All_ apps are 'niche apps' apps, from a certain perspective," John said matter-of-factly, eyes never leaving the screen as he swiped, Nick hardly able to keep up, "This one!" he suddenly exclaimed, paws framing the phone as though it were in a soap bubble. "It'll compliment your height and build, its fabric is comfortable on sleek fox fur, and breathes for the season. The color compliments your particular shade of red and the waistcoat will bring out your eyes."

"Sure, let's go with that."

"Such a simple design, I'll finish it before too long. Now, off with you," he said with a shoo-ing of his paws, "go get some flowers for your mother, I have work to do."

"And the dishrag?"

"Ah... yes," he said, wagging his finger in thought as he went over to a display table and sifted through some dress shirts, before pulling out a silk, purple button-up , "This should do, won't clash with your fur _too_ much." John laid the shirt over Nick's outstretched arms, "A tie  & belt, both black, and these khaki slacks should do the trick."

"I don't suppose you have a pair of boxers for me, too?" said Nick dryly.

"I figured you wore briefs, but if you want boxers-"

"Okay, I don't even want to know why you _have_ spare underwear, Dad."

"Then don't ask, Nicky," John said smugly, pushing his son towards the changing room, "I'm sure you can figure it all out on your own, but if you need help I'm right outside."

"I don't think I can afford all this, small-time fox like me."

"I'll start a tab. Put your old pants with your shirt."

"Why, are you going to donate them, or are they headed for the rag pile, too?" asked Nick.

"Those I'll burn. Pants don't make good rags, far too stiff."

"Can I get my wallet out first?"

John was poised to respond, but stopped short when he saw Nick pull out his handkerchief, recognizing it as the neck-scarf of a uniform from long ago. A tense silence passed between them.

"You kept it."

"Yep."

"I wondered where that went," John said.

"I take it with me wherever I go."

"I'm... sorry for what happened."

"What do you mean?" Nick asked.

"That night, with the Junior Ranger Scouts," lamented John.

"Dad, that was over 20 years ago, and it's not like you were _there_."

"You're right, I _wasn't_ there," he confessed, "It was the same day I opened up the shop, no longer apprenticing, but a shop of my _own_. We were going to celebrate after you returned from the scout meeting... your mother  & I both knew something was wrong, but you insisted everything was okay, so we didn't intervene."

"...I didn't want to ruin the good news," Nick admitted solemnly.

"No, Nicky, the shop never came before you, ever, and we should've said something, _done_ something to help you."

"Dad, really, it's in the past."

"A _divided_ past. You went out at night, pretending to go to those meetings, and then when the police brought you home..." John said, fighting back a choked voice.

"Dad," comforted Nick, "I was with Finnick. We wanted to be shifty, to act like the world thought we should, and as the years went on, it got worse, but we got shiftier, knew our limits and played every advantage. You're not to blame, and neither is Mom. I love you both; always have, always will."

"Oh, okay," sniffed John, clearing his throat and rubbing at an eye with that same smile, before setting his glasses in place. "So you _are_ a boxers-guy," recovered John before Nick had a chance to pull up his slacks. In John's line of work, watching another male undress and then dress was normal, and the precinct's locker room accustomed Nick to changing in front of other males, but "You had to make it weird, Dad," griped Nick.

"Maybe I _should_ get you some extra boxers, those look about ready to call it quits."

" _Alright_ , I'll go buy some new underwear later today. I'm sure the cheap stuff you have is all itchy and chafes."

"Watch your sass, son," warned John, "I only buy top quality, bottom shelf, discounted, bulk-order undies."

Nick posed in front of the standing mirror, "So this is what having new clothes is like," he observed, rather pleased with the ensemble.

"Clearly, it's a bit challenging for you," John said, walking between Nick and the mirror to tuck in his shirt, cinch his belt, unroll & smooth both sleeves, button his cuffs, and redo his tie with swiftness boasting his years as a tailor, "Half-Winsor, Nicky, I taught you better than that. Hmm... you need a jacket, light-colored and thatched."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do," insisted the older fox, already out front to the shuffling of coats and sliding of hangers. On return, he held the jacket open for Nick to reach back and shrug the thing on, buttoning the front.

"Well, now, that _is_ rather classy, isn't it? Maybe I should wear _this_ to the bank," Nick thought aloud.

"And deny an old fox the pleasure? Nicky, you wound me."

"If I can get such a swell wardrobe from your spares, imagine how a proper suit would look."

"Already envisioned, son, and it's right dapper," boasted John, opening the jacket to put the younger fox's wallet in the left breast pocket, and phone in the right.

"I do believe I'm ready to go see Mom," Nick said, loosening his tie an iota to undo the top button, "She'll hardly recognize me."

"Should I phone ahead? Wouldn't want you spooking her."

"No need, I trust in her motherly instinct not to strike her own child."

"How uncharacteristically brave," smirked John, tugging his son's ear.

"Aah!" yelped Nick, leaning to the side from the height difference, "What, no fatherly advice for so daring a fox?"

"I _did_ suggest flowers; daisies should suffice to protect you."

"In that case, I'm off. If I'm not back in an hour, call the police; they'll want to know I'm not coming in on Monday," he said, and slipped out the front door of the shop. Perhaps it was because the morning was further along or the new set of clothes, but the sun seemed to shine brighter on Nick.


	6. Chapter 6

_(This takes place during Nick's day off.)_

Suitopia was only a few blocks from home, but he still needed a detour for those daisies, _Unless, of course, there happens to be a flower vendor nearby_ , thought Nick, spotting a cart vibrant with color and aroma. Striding on up, he bee-lined to a basket of daisies and leaned in to sniff, "What can five dollars get me?" he asked a sheep behind a newspaper.

"Five dollars?" snapped the ram, lowering his newspaper in a huff, before crumpling it in a fright, "Oh, uh... 5 dollars a handful, 8 dollars for two," he quickly said.

"Wow, that's pretty generous," Nick said with a casual smile, "Tell you what, I'll get two handfuls, and you'll get two fivers." He handed the anxious ram a bunch of daisies, whom bundled them hastily while Nick searched his pants pockets, "Are you kidding me, I _actually_ forgot my wallet?" he groaned at the irony, "I'd lose my head if it wasn't attached-"

"Tell ya' what, I'm feeling _extra_ generous today, so they're on the house," said the ram, holding out the bouquet.

"Please, I insist," Nick said, surprising himself with his own integrity, _That rabbit is teaching me good habits in the worst ways..._ he thought, but deciding to roll with it, "It'll only be a minute-"

"No no, _I_ insist," he blurted out, practically shoving the flowers onto the increasingly bewildered fox, "I'll be gone by the time you get back, I'm sure, and you wouldn't want your pretty fox lady missing out on those flowers." He was already packing up his other merchandise in something of a controlled panic.

"Okay, look-"

"Maybe not a fox, maybe not a lady; who am I to judge? It's Zootopia, 'anyone can be anything'," he rattled off, laughing awkwardly as he snapped the last of his cart up and hoisted the carrying-rods to hurry away, "Have a nice day offi- err... fox, mister fox, sir!" he nearly bleated.

Nick's ears perked as he cradled the bouquet in one arm and reached into the left breast pocket of his suit jacket, "Look at that, I do have my wallet. First day wearing a-" but the ram was already hoofing it down the street and around a corner.

Opting for the back pockets of his slacks, Nick tucked his wallet into a familiar spot. _I'd bet my tail that wasn't because I'm a fox,_ he considered, reaching for the phone in his jacket, hesitating, _but they don't bring mammals in for shiftiness, otherwise I'd be serving multiple life sentences._ Cradling the bouquet, he continued towards his childhood home, mentally gnawing on the recent interaction. _Wouldn't be the first time I caught a sheep with suspicious flora,_ pondered Nick, _I can smell those flowers a mile away, though, ever since Doug's underground lab, but there wasn't even a whiff of them on him, and wool holds onto scents like a sponge to water. He likely takes the money and gives instructions in the wrapping_ , he glanced down at the bouquet, knowing there wouldn't be anything inside, _The big problem is he readily recognized me, so catching another one isn't likely._

Nick checked his phone and bit his bottom lip with a disgruntled growl, thumb hovering over 'Clawhauser' in his contacts list, before clicking the button to send him a text message. _Lessee... "Suspicious mammal: ram, early 40's, graying wool, 5'1", south plains accent, missing a chunk of horn and ear on the same side from the same injury, last seen vending flowers in Conifer District, Cedar & 32nd, today about 5 minutes ago. Maybe nothing, but maybe something", and 'Send'._ With a soft, tired sigh he stashed his phone and picked up the pace, intent to erase the whole event from his mind.

At the bottom step, Nick looked up to the weathered oak door painted green, with its cast-iron hinges, knob, & knocker (Conifer District's style back when it was built), that portal through which a fox found solace from a suspecting world. _I wonder if Mom still hosts her quilting clubs on Fridays..._ considered Nick, climbing that first step. _She's probably out shopping; she always did that in the mornings..._ He climbed the next step. _It's been weeks, months since I even contacted her, much less seen her; I'll be lucky if I don't get a wooden spoon to the brainpan..._ And up the final step, to stand upon the welcome mat, feeling as though he marched the gallows. With an extended paw, his finger hovered over the doorbell, only to withdraw it, instead reaching for the knocker up upon the door, but hesitating; deep breaths further steeled him, and he balled a fist to strike the oaken slab in a particular rhythm, a quick and secret beat he knew from his youngest days, _...Lee-la-dee, lee-la-dee, lee-did-diddy-dee-doo..._

A solemn moment passed, and Nick patiently stood before the threshold, one paw in his pocket and the other still cradling the flowers to his chest, until his ears perked at familiar mechanical clicks and creaks of the opening door, and then there stood a vixen whose strawberry red fur was dusted with silver. They stood in a downy silence as each, it seemed, waited for the other to speak first, she with her paws lightly clasped over a faint yellow apron, and a short-sleeved blue dress that looked ideal for lounging in.

Nick turned the flowers over in his grasp as her eyes fell to them, and as he opened his arms to begin greeting in his typical theatrical gesticulations, she suddenly lunged forward to embrace him with a strength that betrayed her petite figure. Typically, as did Nick & John, foxes banter with and jab their loved ones as expressions of affection and endearment, a practice often misinterpreted by other families. However, this meeting bore neither wit nor snark, quips nor one-liners; in this reunion, there was just love. For a solid minute, they stood as though to straddle the threshold, each surrendering a forward step so that they needn't reach so far to hold one another. His muzzle craned to lick at her chin and hers up to lick at his forehead.

"Nicky, you're fur and bones," Jackie finally said, an arm around his torso to yank him out of the real world and into a mother's dominion, her other paw accepting the daisies. "Jacket on the hook there," she instructed, pointing to a polished fixture of a subtle, elegant curve, one of many jutting from a wooden board secured to the wall near the door. Nick complied with a warm smile, shrugging his brand new jacket to hang it on the offered spot, and never gave a second thought to the phone in its breast pocket. A hustler's life taught the fox many safeguards, cautions, and contingencies that kept him from of the long arm of the law, or the shadowy clutches of Zootopia's darker denizens; these, he left with his jacket.

The first sensation to hit him was the smell, that rich aroma of polished wood, vacuumed carpet, and cold, burnt tinge of scented candles unlit for several hours. As he walked through the entry hall Nick noticed newer pictures on the walls, namely of him, if hanged no more recently than in the past year. With a closer look, he recognized what was a series: the first was of him in his Junior Ranger Scouts uniform saluting with all the joy a young fox could muster, perhaps the first time he wore it; the next was of his high school graduation, no special accommodations, simply one of the students that squeaked by; and then the cluster of photos, each one related to his few months in the ZPD, from a group photo of cadets in their training outfits to a graduation photo in his dress blues, and others were selfies taken of him & Judy, or them & Clawhauser, or simply him, all instances he remembered Judy snapping a picture and posting them on her social media site (something he vehemently refused to partake in directly).

How he wished he could walk back the last few minutes, to when he felt secure in his decisions & doubts, when a world of underhandedness & conniving self-preservation made sense; when he still had his defenses up, and couldn't feel the deluge of guilt and joy from seeing these poor quality print-outs off Judy's FuzzBook page. Since he wished to go back a few minutes, why not go back further, and never pose for those accursed pictures, or attend the outings and festivities which they documented; so let not his heart soften with friendship and comradery. Heck, go back and back and back, to before Judy, to when it was only him and Finnick against the world, eking out survival with naught but their wits and trust for each other, doing what everyone else thought foxes did best and tucked away into the safety of anonymity; from whence they never came, and into the silence of eternity they shall go. No, even _that_ isn't far enough. Why can't he go back to that day when he learned that all foxes were thieves and liars and murderers - no matter if they were only a kit of 8 or 9 - so to choose against reaching for something more than how the world sees him, thus never be crushed beneath unforgiving reality? Why can't he keep that innocence? Why can't he forget it?

Why can't he?

Why can't he stop _crying_? Why must 20 years of feelings and emotion wash upon a fox like this? Why must he see this reflection of trust and friendship he cast, but never realized it until it was too late? Why must a heart have strings to play by the silent gestures of a mother? Nick wept, staring at the pictures and all they meant, all that went unsaid and what could have been those many, many years. There he stood not some stranger come to visit but the Prodigal Son returned to a patient home that never forgot him.

He knew Jackie guided him into the kitchen with a touch gentler than a snowflake's greeting, into a sturdy wooden chair with a hot cup of tea beneath his sniffling nose, but it did not register to resist, nay, even protest her administrations; only to let his heart churn in its hardened, yet broken shell as the maternal warmth pour in. After a tissue or four and a long draft of _Trill Grey_ tea, Nick leaned comfortably on the kitchen table.

"How are you, Mom?" he asked with a smile.

"Oh, I'm doing fine," she answered, refilling her son's cup before sipping her own, "Your father called as soon as you left the shop, giving me hardly _any_ time to clean up, or even put the pot on. It's a wonder I managed to get this place ready for visitors at all." The house and entryway were spotless, so if any mess was had in that house, it hid away of its own accord or face her righteous wrath; the tea was at the right temperature for sipping, and a plate of blueberry scones sat quietly between them on the table. Additionally, while Nick blubbed, Jackie found a quaint vase to hold the flowers in.

"He knew you'd find a way," Nick said as he reached for a scone to pop it down his gob.

"We were at your graduation, Nicky, from the academy," Jackie explained casually, after another sip of tea, "and we're both very proud of you."

"Yes, I noticed the picture of Carrots... _Judy_ , giving me my badge wasn't a printout. Dad didn't want to mention that?"

"He wanted to give me something to boast about," she beamed, her giddiness showing through a practiced calm, if only for an instant, "It was my idea to print out those FuzzBook photos, but there's so many of them; maybe I'll put them into one of those collage frames."

"I didn't even know you and Dad were on that site, wouldn't figure either of you the sort."

"Oh, we're not; the shop is. Your father said it needed a website but couldn't bother to learn how to make one. Can't say I blame him." She shrugged with quiet emphasis, and then continued, "We're private folk, us foxes, always have been."

"I couldn't help but notice there was one up there of my community service," Nick mentioned.

"We found that on another fox's page one day with some horrible things said about you," she said with a frown, glaring into her tea, "I've never seen John so mad, and he's the most level-headed mammal I know. Oh Nicky, you should've seen him running up the walls in _such_ a state, I worried he'd charge right through the ceiling. After he calmed down he replied and set your good name right, that 'a fox can honestly accept the consequences of his actions, and still be a fox'." She nodded sagely.

"Wow," replied Nick, honestly unsure what to make of that, "So you kept the photo because...?"

"It's an excellent shot of you, sweetie, very noble."

"I'm covered in sweat and about to fall over."

"Yet so masculine," Jackie explained with a smile, "I show it to my girlfriends when they come over to quilt, and they say you're quite handsome in it."

"Please tell me you're joking," groaned Nick, putting a paw over his eyes, "that you don't actually show _that_ one."

"Of course not," she laughed, "I show you off in uniform as much as I can. _That_ 's my noble, handsome fox." To which, Nick permitted a warm grin. "You've turned quite a few heads among the young vixens, you know," she mentioned as an aside, glancing over the rim of her teacup as she sipped.

"I _am_ something of an anomaly," Nick pondered aloud, reaching over for another blueberry scone to toss into his mouth (mostly avoiding his mother's implying gaze).

To this, Jackie hooded her eyes and set her cup down in its saucer, the quiet clink little less than a judge's gavel, "I read on Judy's FuzzBook page that you're visiting Bunnyburrow this weekend. A last minute decision?"

"Yep, 'fraid so."

"Would it be possible for you to come visit us again _next_ weekend?"

"Of course, Mom," assured Nick, picking up another scone, "where else can I get these delicious little things?"

"Oh, Nicky," she scoffed with a smirk as her son purposefully made a mess of crumbs on his chin, "you really are _impossible_ , always have been." She was already up and adjacent, napkin cleaning his muzzle, "What am I to do with you?"

"Love me, I guess."

"I guess so."

They shared a quiet laugh as she cleared the table, Nick reclining in his chair with an arm slung over the back, "Speaking of foxes and baked goods, I'll likely meet this 'Gideon Grey' character Judy goes on about, gets his produce from the Hopps family farm. A fox in business with bunnies, who'd've thought."

"Your father has plenty of rabbit clients, and mice, beavers, sheep, all types get their suits from him," she said in a somewhat rushed manner, the faucet running as she did a quick rinse of the plates for later washing, "It's good to see young foxes getting into that habit, too. Especially you, Nicky, partnered with a rabbit in the ZPD." Her voice lightened and practically floated out the nearby window, turning off the sink and patting her paws on her apron.

"By the way, there's another last minute decision," Nick said, "I'd like to treat you and Dad to lunch." Jackie reacted precisely as Nick hoped she would by nearly jumping out of her fur, knowing she'd already settled into her "house clothes" and did nothing to fancy-up her fur; honestly, with the damp fur still clinging to her wrists and slightly askew fuzz around her head and neck, the very image of a homely mother set to tend her household as a curator to her gallery, she was quite beautiful. Seeing that controlled panic blazing behind her eyes as she realized _every_ thing she needed to do before heading out set Nick at ease, _Still my Mom even after all these years_ , he wondered with a wide smile.

"Oh, your father didn't mention anything about that..." she bargained, glancing up at the clock quickly.

"Like I said, 'last minute'," he explained, reaching for his phone, only to remember that it was still in his jacket, "I'll let him know _right_ now."

As he stood, pointing down the hallway towards the front door, Jackie edged her way around him to dash upstairs with a quiet, if hasty, pitter-patter of feet, muttering some annoyance or another. The younger fox basked in his moment of congenial smugness; knowing full well there was no way she could resist, much less protest such an offer. The heart-felt moment they shared at the front door was wonderful in so many ways, but familial tricks is what kept foxes keen, and also what kept them together.


	7. Chapter 7

_(This takes place during Nick's day off.)_

At the front door, Nick slipped his arm around and into the breast pocket of his hanging coat, pulling out his phone to flick it on and finding a text message with a photograph attachment from none other than Clawhauser himself. Quickly glancing over his shoulder, Nick unlocked his phone and opened up the picture with the accompanying message of _"Is this him?"_ , and by golly, it was. _That flower-vending ram is already in the system_ , thought Nick, recognizing the missing chunks of ear & horn on the same side, _That cheetah is faster than I thought; I wasn't expecting to hear back from him until Monday at the earliest. What to do with this new bit of information, though? I can't cut this day short, it's two decades in the making, I might as well spit in their eyes while I'm at it._

 _It's not like he actually did anything,_ Nick considered, and opened up a reply text, _"Don't put out an APB yet, but let me know if he pops up." and 'Send'._ The high-riding, good feelings of the morning took a momentary dip as he sighed and locked his phone, hoping against hope that he's not called into work on his day off, _I shouldn't go sticking my nose where it doesn't belong... when I'm off duty._ Almost dropping his phone, Nick's fur went on end at the prompt answer from Clawhauser, _Please don't be a pop, please don't be a pop..._ he pled, holding his phone as though it were rancid, peeking out from beneath a cracked eyelid and a turned head as he swiped his lock screen to check the text.

 _"Will do~"_

Another, heavier sigh left his lips as he locked the phone once again to stash it into his coat pocket, _That should keep him busy. Oh wait, I wanted to get a hold of Da-_ Nick dropped his phone this time as it buzzed and rang with the one-of-many standard ringtones, 'Lofty Leisure'; luckily, his foot provided ample cushion for the falling mobile device, so that by the time it landed on the foot-traffic-compressed rug there was hardly any downward momentum. The fox cringed and hopped on one leg cradling his poor phone-cushion as the melody continued its up-beat melancholia. Hissing through clenched fangs, Nick finally managed enough sense to stoop and retrieve his phone, swiping to answer the sudden call.

"Hi Dad," he huffed, clearing his throat as quietly as possible, "No no, I'm fine, I was about to call you and- ... Yes, lunch for the three of us... It can be after the bank, in case I spill anything on my new suit... No, of course I wouldn't dare... You've never used your belt for that, and never will... I'll have to outrun you, then, wouldn't I?... I certainly could, you stitch all your slacks for full range of movement, so I'll get my full stride... Another half-hour? Dad, this has to be the quickest suit you ever made... I certainly hope double-timing it won't add to my tab... Oh, 'family discount', I see, well, maybe I _won't_ treat you and Mom to lunch, because I can't _afford_ it... Alright, love you too, Dad, see you in a bit," he chuckled, locking his phone as the call ended and tucking it into his back pocket.

There were several minutes more before Mom was ready to head out, even if she only had 'another half-hour' to finish up, so Nick decided to ascend the stairs and check out his old room. It's not like he ran away in the dead of night and was never seen again, or stormed out and turned his back on them forever; he simply... fell out of touch with them. Finding new, cheap resources for Pawpsicles took up most of his time, not to mention finding places to make them without getting caught, and while Zootopia was an _enormous_ city there were mammals with long memories, so he had to endear himself without being recognizable. It weighed heavily on a fox's mind and, maybe, forgetting to call the folks every now  & then was permissible, under certain circumstances. It's not like he _completely_ forgot them, he still sent money on a semi-regular basis, after all.

 _"We didn't want your money, we wanted you,"_ rang in Nick's ears as he neared the top of the stairs. _They didn't need my money, from the looks of it; they always were good with finances. Nothing fancy, but certainly stable,_ he thought, the leaden weight of his absence on his shoulders again while he was alone with himself. Ever since he entered the house, scents of his younger years filled him with such memories, both good  & bad, but mostly good, since the bad were either not his fault and he found comfort in parental embrace, or entirely his fault and he deserved what he got. One step from the top, he heard a soft creak of wood to pause him, but then smiled and leaned his weight into it to get it really groaning.

Jackie was down the hall on the right, master bedroom, fixing up her fur to be "presentable", but Nick hung a left towards where he knew his old bedroom was. The ceiling seemed so close to him, now; he could reach up and brush his fingers along it if he stood up on his toes. Perhaps it was this simple fact of height that really gave him an idea of how long he'd been gone.

At his former bedroom door, cleaned and touched-up, he stepped inside to find the guest room, along with uncertainty. His lanky form leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed in thought as he looked over the neatly-covered bedspread and fox-sized furniture, a closet well-kept and empty, waiting for new clothes. From the pictures downstairs, he knew they remembered him; from the bedroom he stood at, he felt like they moved on. _No point in waiting for a kit that won't come home,_ he considered, and stepped toward the oblong bed to clumsily flop back on it, arms sprawled and, almost instantly, sinking in, _This is nice, maybe I'll get one of my own._

His nostrils flared as he smelled something stunningly familiar. Craning his neck Nick spotted a raggedy old throw pillow, perhaps no bigger his head, sitting starkly against the newer bed makings. He reached out a paw and grabbed it up, holding it over him in wonder at a patchwork sack of cushioning, covered in teeth marks, persistent stains, and countless stitches. Nick remembered each thread of this pillow, for it was his own; other kits and cubs had blankets and dolls, he had a pillow, something he dragged around with him, snuggling into, chewed on, sneezed on, and sat on. With all the repairs, it was more spare material and thread than any of its original fabric, but it had a bounce of new stuffing and a clean freshness. _Why is this here?_ wondered Nick, sitting up onto his elbows and scooting about, raptly curious by now as he lay lengthwise on the bed... and found it fit him. His feet didn't hang off the end, and his knuckles barely touched the sides; in fact, he could easily pivot on his seat to plant his feet to the floor.

There stood Jackie in the doorframe, quiet, a clean set of nice outing clothes and newly brushed fur, and that lipstick she liked to wear that made her lips a bit shinier. It was clear to Nick what happened to his old room: it became his new room. "Officially, it's a 'guest room'," she said with an explanatory sigh, looking around at the succinct decor, mostly gender neutral if masculine-leaning; no real theme or aesthetic aside from livability, "Your father could always tell someone's height & build by looking at them, like an extra sense of what they'd be comfortable in, so we redid the room with you in mind. A pair of old, sentimental foxes, we are." She cleared her throat and needlessly smoothed out the front of her dress. Nick set the pillow down and stood up to approach the door, so she took a step back to let him out, but he reached and embraced her once again, like before, across a threshold.

"I'm sorry I didn't come back sooner," he said.

"Your shirt's all wrinkly," she responded with a sniff, smoothing out the back of his shirt while embracing him. He chuckled to such fuss.

"We should head out if we're going to arrive at Suitopia in time," Nick explained, politely gesturing with his paw for his mother to head towards the stairs.

"John's a patient fox, he's likely fussing over some small detail and could use the extra minutes we'll afford him."

After Nick shrugged on his jacket and Jackie her purse, they went outside to lock the front door before trekking to the sidewalk. She had a soft yellow Sunday skirt with flower embroidery around the hem, and a subdued green blouse with a bit more vibrant frill around the collar, sleeves and waist that did well to bring out the skirt's flower-leaves. Atop her head she wore a simple, short-brimmed hat and a set of modest sunglasses over her eyes; from her purse she pulled out a second pair for Nick, which he ignored until they wagged insistently.

"Protect your eyes, Nicky, or you'll go sunblind."

"Only if I stare directly at the sun, Mom."

"Don't sass me, Nicholas, my girlfriend's daughter _never_ wore eye protection and went sunblind by 25," she paused, and then sweetened her voice a bit, "She's very pretty, about your age, now; works a night job, of course, can only see in dim light, the poor thing."

"She sounds quite eligible," remarked Nick with a grin, "Were I in the market for a mate, I'd probably ask her out for coffee."

"I'm sorry, Nicky, I don't mean to push," she said with a sigh, "You'll find the right one when you find her."

"I'll find her," he said casually, causing Jackie's ears to perk, to which he leaned in for a smirk, "and we'll give you & Dad plenty of little grandkits to spoil."

"Well, we're not getting any younger," she said, patting her son's cheek, "I have a few more prospective vixens, when you're interested."

"Running a call service on the side, 'eh?"

"You watch that tongue, because I will _not_ hesitate to bend you over my- Oh, hold on, Nicky, let's cross the street here," she insisted, waiting at an intersection for the _WALK_ signal.

"Umm, sure," Nick complied, "Why?"

"It's one of those mushroom-on-a-stick carts, I can't stand how they smell," she said, focusing on the crosswalk sign, "They throw on far too many strong spices for my delicate nose. I can practically smell it from here." Indeed, Nick saw a porcine vendor skewering swollen fungus and vegetables dipped in cooking oil, and then practically pouring on anything from garlic to pepper to turmeric; a short line of patient Zootopian denizens awaited their turn to order. Nick's nose was certainly no less delicate, since when his nostrils flared he picked up 5 or 6 spices (that he could name), and it honestly made his head swim a little.

"You weren't kidding, that's some pungent stuff," he said with a frown, but added with a smirk, "I should call that in for some sort of health code violation."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Nicky, that boar is doing an honest job and making lots of mammals happy," Jackie said, stepping onto the street when the signal gave the go-ahead, "I hear they're actually quite good, those kebabs he sells, it's only a shame I can't get near the things."

"On the topic of food, there's still the issue of taking you & Dad out to lunch. I know of a nice little restaurant a stone's throw from here, inexpensive but not cheap; good way to break in a new suit."

"Don't let your father catch you saying such things, he's works very hard on those suits, and yours especially. I wouldn't doubt if it's his finest yet."

"Let's not stop the presses until we see it, Mom, you know Dad doesn't like a fuss made of his suits," reminded Nick.

"Unless he's the one fussing, of course."

"Of course."

As they approached Suitopia, Nick pointed his nose towards the kebab vendor once again, the smell not as strong it seemed when they aren't directly downwind of it, but it wasn't the odor which caught his attention. Even through his sunglasses and across the street, Nick recognized the boar's anxiety while spicing kebabs, and it was only for an instant, but the vendor stared like his hand was caught in the cookie jar.

Jackie rummaged through her purse to pull out the spare key for the shop, sliding it carefully into the lock and twisting it a bit further than Nick thought locks should go. She glanced up at his arched eyebrows and let herself in, removing her sunglasses and stashing them in her purse alongside her keys, "These old locks take a bit of fiddling to get open. I keep telling your father to get something newer, but you know him, he won't replace a thing until it's falling apart."

"Only if it's related to fabric," Nick replied, removing his sunglasses and wagging them insistently at his mother, whom stashed them in her purse. "Hey Dad, I'm back," Nick called into the shop, "Mom tagged along."

"He must be in the back," Jackie concluded from the lack of response, "Be a dear and lock the door, I'll go get him."

Dutifully, Nick complied with his mother's wishes and turned to address the matter of dead bolting the door. In fact, with Mom no longer in the room, he had a chance to get a better idea of the food vender across the way, but he would need discretion. _So much for my day off_ , thought Nick, crouching to peek through a gap in the window dressing, squinting as the brightness of outside was a considerable difference to the dim light inside. After his eye adjusted, he could make out the boar still serving his kebabs, much more relaxed without the knowledge of Nick's observation. _Could he be associated with Chunky the Ram?_ wondered Nick, thinking it no mere coincidence that two street vendors looked ready to hightail it when he came by; within hours and yards of each other, no less.

 _If this were some sort of drop-off point for Night Howler pollen, all those spices would mask the smell,_ he rubbed his chin in postulation, _They meet the ram in the morning, purchase flowers with some sort of code-phrase, and then get instructions tucked in the bouquet. At lunch time, they hand off those same instructions to the boar and order the "special", probably some low-key dosage so not to arouse suspicion; and if they_ do _get caught tripping out, they can blame it on "bad mushrooms"._ His ears lay back again as he pulled out his phone, hoping to get a snapshot of the porcine vendor. _Doing the purchase and drop-off on the same street is unbelievably risky, but if it's small-time amounts to irregular customers, there wouldn't be nearly enough activity to arouse suspicion._

The Conifer District is usually much shadier than it currently was, but the arborists were pruning the trees which comprised a vast majority of the area, so the streets had a bit more light on them. This actually worked to Nick's advantage, since it lit up the kebab vender without the need of a tattling flash. Carefully aligning the camera lens of his phone with the narrow gap in the curtains, Nick pinched and spread his fingers to zoom in, and with a flick of his thumb, _Blast, a car drove by_. He quickly stood when he heard footsteps approach from the back of the shop, studying the digital photograph and begrudgingly accepted the one shot he got of the car's after image blurring out the boar's face, _I'll hold onto this one, for now,_ and slipped the phone into his breast pocket.


	8. Chapter 8

_(This takes place during Nick's day off.)_

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Nicky," John said, pulling on one of his plainer jackets.

"He was on hold with one of his distributors," Jackie explained, shouldering her purse.

"At least I got the pattern sketched out, should have it all done by Tuesday," said the fatherly fox, and then looking to Nick, "Is that mushroom-on-a-stick thing still there?"

"Last I checked," reported Nick, and then adding with a smirk, "Still quite a line out there, though; I suggest somewhere with less standing."

"Let's head out the back," he grimaced, "I can't stand the smell of it."

"Is this a fox thing? Because we weren't the only ones avoiding that kebab cart," recalled the younger Wilde, not thinking about it until that moment, but there _were_ other foxes that crossed the street or turned a corner, rather than walk by the boar and his strong spices.

The parental foxes exchanged glances, and then Jackie gasped thoughtfully, "Oh, it's probably allergies. Other mammals call it 'fox flu' because us foxes have _such_ a sensitivity to certain smells," she explained, "It's usually not a problem in Zootopia, much less the Conifer District, because we have medications for stuff like that, and it goes away once you build up a resistance to it. I'd bet my tail that boar is using some exotic spices."

"I thought only kits get 'fox flu'?" asked Nick, remembering when _he_ had it; not his favorite memory.

"Well, of course," answered John, "but this 'exotic spice' must be potent enough to trigger it. That's awful unfortunate; I hope it doesn't catch on."

 _Unfortunately, it already it has,_ pondered Nick with growing suspicions. He smiled and shrugged, "They'll come out with a new pill for it, and so turns the wheel of society. Let's get over to the bank, cross that off our list, and enjoy the rest of our day together, 'exotic spices' or not."

"Ever the pragmatist," giggled Jackie as she turned to John, "he gets that from your side of the family."

"Well, I am mated to you," he answered with a smile, touching his nose to hers.

"If ever there was a need for an exit," commented Nick, averting his gaze.

"Don't knock it, youngin', once you get a mate of your own, you'll be wanting it all the time," teased his father, an arm around Jackie's shoulders so to usher her towards the rear exit.

"He's not 'in the market for a mate'," Jackie informed, "Told me so himself."

"His loss," and reached down to pinch her, causing the vixen to jump with a quiet yelp.

"John!" she chided, but giggled once more.

"Guys, c'mon, I'm still here," reminded Nick, walking a few steps behind them.

"Then pick up the pace, or we'll miss the bank teller," laughed John.

John & Jackie walked arm-in-arm out of the back alley, Nick sauntering with his paws folded behind his back, out into the sunshine of 32nd to avoid the kebab vendor's spices of Cedar Street. Jackie was quick with her hat and the sunglasses, somehow managing to store 3 pairs in her purse, handing them out to her two most favorite foxes in the world (John's was the type designed to fit over his regular eyeglasses). Along the way, Nick filled his folks in on his life, nothing too detailed (like sleeping in a dresser drawer, lack of dishes, and habit of eating take-out food), but he said everything with its proper dramatic flourish to make the simpler things seem more exciting.

"...and then I said to the moose, 'Listen, buddy, if you have a problem with the _law_ , I suggest you take it up with a _law_ yer, I'll even let you use the phone at the precinct, or you can save the both of us a _law_ t of trouble, and pay the parking ticket'," told Nick, to which John burst a laugh and Jackie politely giggled.

"Nicky, I don't know which is weirder, how much trouble you get in for checking meters or how you always manage to find those _dreadful_ Howler dens," Jackie said as they approached Conifer District branch of  Bear-Steerns.

"I'm lucky, I guess," Nick said, hopping up the steps to pull and hold open the mid-sized door for his parents, receiving a motherly pat on his cheek for his troubles. Inside, sunglasses removed (and stashed in her purse), the Wildes made their way over to the nearest available teller, a mountainous bear with a set of reading glasses perched on the end of her long nose and tethered to her neck on a beaded lanyard, which she glanced over as the foxes approached.

"Ahh, good mor- oh, no, it's past noon, isn't it?" she said in cordial tone, gesturing to the large chairs with a professional smile, "Good _afternoon_ , my name's Claire, how may I help you?"

John assisted his mate up into one of the chairs before Nick scooted it closer to the desk, and then hopped up into a chair himself; the parents sat comfortably side-by-side while their son reclined, earning a quiet "Sit up, Nicky" from his mother. "Well," began John, "we came to check out the status of our account, and review any available options." On cue, Jackie pulled out an envelope and laid it on the desk as best she can reach, which the teller nodded in thanks and picked up to open.

"What else d'you have in there?" asked Nick with a quirked eyebrow. Also on cue, Jackie pulled out a peppermint and handed it to him, "Ooh," he responded, and unwrapped it to pop in his mouth.

"Mmhmm..." hummed the bear while foxes sat patiently, her long claws tapping at the keyboard. "Ahh, so this must be young Nicholas," she said with a smile, leaning to see Nick from around her monitor, "I remember when my Kody was that small. My, how they grow..." she said, looking to Mr. & Mrs. Wilde.

"Hardly seems a day since he could press his face into my apron as he hugged me," sighed Jackie.

"I still do, but the positioning is a bit more awkward," quipped Nick. John stifled a laugh and Jackie cleared her throat.

"Alright, I have your account information here. Let's see... you opened the account when he was 2, so that's at least 30 years, and _this_ is the total, after interest," Claire explained, turning her monitor around for the convenience of the fox family. Nick almost choked on his peppermint as John  & Jackie sat in shock at the figure on the screen. Coughing the minty treat into his paw, Nick took a moment to catch his breath as he stared at the account information. "Oh dear, are you alright?" asked a concerned Claire.

"I would say I'm set for life," Nick said meekly, popping the peppermint back into his mouth as he sat back, letting it all sink in.

Outside, Jackie supplied the sunglasses as before, while Nick & John remained thoroughly stunned. "Wow," Nick finally said, running his fingers through the fur on his head, "I wasn't expecting that."

"Well," agreed John, "we started that account when you were barely walking, and... never _actually_ looked at it in all this time."

"I guess I can finally start paying off those credit card bills, and goodness knows how many of those other debts. Wouldn't mind being able to use those again," remarked Nick.

"Well, I dare say there's hardly much more parenting needed from the likes of us, at least for today," chimed Jackie, patting her mate's arm, "Now, I'm famished. You mentioned a restaurant nearby, Nicky?"

"Not too far from here. I know the owners, sweet couple, you'll like them."

"Oh," said Jackie as they arrived as the location, I'll Be Dammed, a quaint fish eatery that was, appropriately, built into the dam of a river running through Conifer District, "This is Bea's place, Beatrice Dammer and her mate Vernon. She's part of my quilting circle... Oh, this is going to be awkward, I kind of cancelled last minute."

"She'll understand," assured John, patting her paw while they walked arm-in-arm, "It's not every day your son visits out of the blue."

"Besides," added Nick, "beavers are the forgiving sort, so long as you don't mess with their stuff."

"She was looking forward to finishing that one pattern today..." dreaded Jackie.

"Not to worry," said her son, pulling out his phone, "I have dispatch on speed-dial, I can get a squad car here in under a minu- aah!" His phone buzzed violently and he nearly dropped it, which considering their location on the log-bridge leading to the restaurant, would have ended poorly. "And we're turning off vibration," grumped Nick, unlocking his phone and setting it to only sound-based notifications before checking the text message; it was 'Carrots'. His ears perked as he opened the message, and was relieved to see it was only well-wishes and anticipation for that night, as opposed to anything dramatic, "Judy sends her love," grinned Nick as he replied to the message and tucked his phone into his jacket pocket.

"Oh, did you tell Judy about us?" asked Jackie.

"Hmm? No, not yet," Nick admitted, "maybe when I see her this weekend. The topic never really came up that I dropped out of touch with my parents."

"Oh, Nicky..." Jackie cooed, reaching over and looping her arm with his, so she walked with her two favorite foxes in the world on either side of her.

"Well, son, we're putting the past behind us for a better future," said John with a smile.

"Alrighty, you two," smirked Nick, "there are other mammals coming up, let's keep the family moments in check." They shared a chuckle.

At the restaurant, as a family of squirrels was leaving, Nick held the door open for his folks, walking in to find that the place was fairly empty, despite a Friday lunch hour. "Quaint" described it well; almost everything was either made of or looked like wood, rather spacious with a third of the area comprised of a bar, while the rest was filled with tables and booths. At the moment, perhaps 2 or 3 other parties inhabited the place; still, it felt like a family-run restaurant, or as Mr. Dammer called it, a "pub".

"Bless me, if it isn't John & Jackie!" said a portly male beaver, coming out from the kitchen and taking off his apron, "And Nick, where've you been, I 'aven't seen you in a month? You used to come in every other Friday."

"Oh, good, you already know each other," said Nick, smiling as he removed his sunglasses to rest them on his brow.

"Of course I know the _Wildes_ ; he's only the best tailor in Zootopia," lauded Vern, "and Jackie, so good to see you again."

"It's good to see you too, Vern. How's Bea?" asked the vixen.

"'Allo Jackie," came another voice, this one from a portly female beaver as she, also, came out from the kitchen. Her demeanor was noticeably cold, but then she laid eyes on Nick and her face lit up, "Bless me... is that _Nick_? Oh, lookit you! Your picture doesn't do you justice, lad. Jackie..." she scolded playfully, "You should 'ave _told_ me your son was visiting, I was upset all morning. Our Friday quilting circles are the highlight of my week."

"Wha-?" said Vern, gawking & pointing from one fox to the other, "This one's _your_ Nick?"

"Of course he's _John_ 's Nick, whose did you think he was?" chided Bea.

"They aren't the only 'Wilde' foxes in Conifer, Bea."

"These're the Wildes with an 'e', Vern; the others don't have an 'e'!"

"It's a _silent_ 'e', how am I supposed to hear a _silent_ 'e'?" protested Mr. Dammer.

"Don't mind him," Bea said, turning to the Wildes-with-an-'e', "it's that new sports bar that opened up down the way that's got 'im fit to be tied. Vern, be a good host and show 'em to a booth, I'll put on some tea."

"Go easy on him, Bea," said John with a smile, "he's a great host and a great friend."

"Oh, bugger all, no need for such flattery," said Vern, but beaming wide at it all, "There you are, your favorite booth. Will it be the usuals, then?"

"That'll be great, thank you," said Jackie, and the beaver walked back into the kitchen. She turned to Nick, whom looked out the window at the river beyond. The booth felt distant from the restaurant as the older foxes studied their son across the table. "We didn't realize how hard today was for you," Jackie finally said, reaching out and resting her paw on Nick's. He looked at her, and tried to smile, but barely curled the edges of his lips. It was clear to the three of them, purely by the Dammers' reactions, that not only did Nick lose touch with his parents but he actively avoided them, and yet, stayed as close as he could. Maybe it was guilt, maybe it was shame, and maybe it was a thousand different reasons that he couldn't face them; maybe he couldn't bear them facing him.

"I'm sorry I didn't come back sooner," he said quietly.

"We forgive you, Nicky, of course we do," said John, to which Jackie added, "Can you ever forgive us?"

The younger fox looked up, eyes misty, and with the handkerchief from his old Junior Ranger Scouts uniform, he dabbed away whatever tears might've formed with a warm smile, "Of course." Nick removed the sunglasses from his brow and handed them, along with his handkerchief, to his mother for storage in her purse, which she did contentedly.


	9. Chapter 9

A full sun sat on its hill-jagged horizon when the foxes arrived at the farm Judy grew up in; a farm which words did no justice. Nick doffed his sunglasses to stare at the cresting tracts of land that seemed to blanket the landscape beyond where eyes could see. Rolling down the window and leaning his head out, the city-slicker donned his shades once more to get a proper glimpse of the dew-laden crops in the early morning light, "This is the Hopps Farm?" he asked to no one in particular, the sign HOPPS FARM: Hopp on in! was clear enough, after all. Surrounded by skyscrapers most his life, Nick could hardly believe such an open place existed, much less owned by a single family.

"It's one of 'em," answered Gideon, calm as could be while enjoying the other fox's awe. To further answer Nick's incredulous expression, "The Hopps family is very, very big, one of the oldest families in the Tri-Burrow area. Good chance most of the bunnies coming this week is a Hopps."

"I didn't know Judy came from rabbit nobility," said Nick, smirking as best he could, This makes sense to someone, I'm sure.

"Well, I wouldn't say that," laughed Gideon, "Bein' a 'noble' means there's some kind of... what's the word... exclusion, that's it. But with bunnies, they include ev'ryone."

"Meaning...?"

"Oh, you prob'ly didn't know this, but in the Bunnyburrow – prob'ly the whole Tri-Burrow area, I can't say for sure – bunnies don't have a 'family name' like other mammals, they have a 'farm name', meaning the farm they're from; some call it a 'farmily'. Judy is from the 'Hopps Farm', so she's a 'Hopps'. She's Stu-&-Bonnie's daughter though, I do know that."

"Where are the other Hopps Farms, pray tell?"

"Well, there's one in the next burrow over, and I hear there's a 'Hopps Farm' in Zootopia itself; I think they do most of the food processing, though, less the growing."

"I'm going into this whole thing woefully underprepared," realized Nick, pulling out his phone for a web browser, "Keep talking, I have cramming to do."

"You can't be serious, Nick," protested Gideon, "that's hundreds of years of rabbit history to go through, and we're already passing the radishes, we'll be at the farmhouse any minute."

"You drive, I'll browse," said Nick with a grin, "I don't need to know everything, only the stuff that'll make me look informed." Gideon tried to lean in and read over Nick's shoulder, only to get shooed, "Eyes on the road, Bangs, we're here to make a good impression, not drive through their crops."

"You're here to make a good impression, I'm here on business."

"Not simply dropping me off to be on your merry way?" asked Nick, flicking an ear in the stouter fox's direction.

"Nope! I actually have a thing in need of attendin' over at the Hopps'," he said, smiling smugly, "Me & Stu are going over next year's crops. He's actually bringing me in to get my input, ask me what I think would make for good baking. It's only for a small spot of land out in a corner of their property, but still!" He seemed barely able to contain his giddiness.

"Wow," Nick said, sparing precious seconds from his cramming to address Gideon, "That's... unheard of. They trust you that much with their produce?"

"I know, right!" he said, and took a breath to collect himself, "I'm thinking boysenberries, or mangos! I haven't done anything with taro; I hear it's pretty good."

"Let's be realistic, Bangs."

"Yeah, you're right. I should stick with boysenberries and go from there."

"Huh..." said Nick, eyes scanning the screen of his phone, "Quick question: what's the relationship between hares and rabbits in Bunnyburrow?"

"Umm..."

"C'mon, Bangs, we're almost to the farmhouse, and if you can help me avoid a faux pas, I'd greatly appreciate it," Nick insisted in a sing-song tone.

"Well..." he continued, shifting about awkwardly in his seat, glancing to Nick and then the road, "Okay, summ'rized as best I can, bunnies are in the Burrow proper and hares stick to the boondocks. Their big family name is 'Briar', and there aren't a lot of 'em that come down from the hills. That's all I know. Now this is important, Stretch, Judy's boyfriend is 'Bo Briar', but he ain't a hare, he's a bunny, and it's kind of a sore spot to bring up, but you won't ever see it from him; so long as you don't mention his ears, those he is sensitive about."

He must have particularly small ears, "See, this is important information to know," said Nick, putting his phone away as they came to a stop. "Is there any time to find out what happened between the hares and the rabbits?"

"No, 'fraid not," said Gideon, killing the engine, "that's something you'll hafta find out for yerself." He stepped out of the van, but carried with him a paper bag that was stashed between the seats; Nick saw it there the night before, but it didn't occur to him that it was the source of the cinnamon smell until that moment.

"Giddy! Giddy!" came the joined voices of a few young rabbits. Inside the yard surrounding the farmhouse were at least a dozen-and-a-half bunnies pumping water into buckets and braiding twine together into larger ropes, all stopping and then charging the rotund fox as he came in through the front gate. Their noses twitched and as they barricaded his approach, while he craned his neck to check for... something, before he leaned in and pulled out that mysterious brown paper bag. "Okay, no sign of your parents, but eat 'em quiet like," he said, "Only one each, okay?" Nick looked as best he could to find that the little bunnies were scooping out cookies only big enough to fit in their palm, and those at the front were, much to his surprise, handing out the cookies to those behind them. It wasn't until the crowd dispersed that the distributors, which seemed the more mature, had their own cookies and bid their gratitude to the pastry chef.

"'Giddy', huh?" said Nick with a smirk, but stalled when Gideon tossed him the brown paper bag crumpled into a ball.

"Trash cans on your right," he chuckled, "Cinnamon oatmeal raisin cookies. Kids love 'em. I brought some last night, but their parents don't like me handing 'em out all freely like, so I gotta be discreet about it."

Nick tossed the ball of trash into the aforementioned can, and smirked at Gideon as he walked towards the front porch, Clever fox. He's not bunnified; he's ingratiated himself to one of the oldest rabbit families in the Burrow. Look at his stride, it's the same as when he walks through his living room. Nick was on his phone again, typing away as he followed aside Gideon.

"Last minute cliffsnotes, Stretch?"

"Only some communication I should've done on the way here," Nick said with a grin as he sent a text message.

"That won't do you any good," came a voice from the patio, "Jude never carries her phone with her in the fields. Drives her mother & me crazy." It was none other than Stu, the Hopps patriarch, stepping out from behind the screen door to greet the foxes on his farm, "You boys take the scenic route on your way here? Can't say I blame you, the crops down on the road are some of the best this season. Lucky us, huh? Good for business and for the view!" He descended from the patio and shook paws with Nick first, and then Gideon, "Shame we couldn't properly catch up last night, or right now, for that matter; we've been busier than bees coming up to the TBR, so we need to get this crop stuff finished up quickly. C'mon inside, Gideon, Bonnie's got the coffee on. Nick, you'll find Judy & Bo around back, empty field with the 'turnip' signs, look for flying dirt, can't miss 'em."

"Excuse me, Mr. Hopps, but 'flying dirt'?" asked Nick.

Stu glanced over his shoulder (presumably to check if Bonnie could see him) before he popped a small cookie into his mouth (presumably palmed when he shook paws with Gideon), which he currently finished before answering. "Oh, that's right, you don't know about Bo, yet. Well, the kid's the finest plower & rock-digger the Hoppses ever knew; why, our crops see a 12% increase with him around! They're a great team for the larger boulders, he & Judy, been working on a real tough one since dawn, so they should still be at it."

"In that case, I'll leave you two fine gents to your business and go see how they're coming along," Nick said, tapping a single salute to his brow for the both of them on his way around back. He wished he could step inside for a bit of that coffee, it smelled like Bonnie really knew how to brew a bean, but he couldn't miss out on such an opportunity to see Bo in action and measure him up. Catch 'em when they're in deep and least suspecting it, he speculated with a smug expression, but then quickly looked around for any lingering hallucinations and straightened his tie.

He caught sight of Judy crouched and staring intently at the ground, but as he approached it was obvious her attention was upon a rock; soon it was clear that the rock was inside a recently excavated hole. To the fox's mischievous delight, he realized that Judy's ears were not yet swiveled back, Have I finally the chance to sneak up on our dear Officer Fluff?

"Okay, on 3, ready?" he heard her say, and then saw the rock begin to wiggle, (Perhaps not the best time for a jump-scare, reconsidered Nick), "1... 2... 3!" and with a brutish grunt, what was, as Stu predicted, a sizeable boulder launched from the hole to clear the ring of upturned dirt to land with a decisive thud. Nick reeled and cringed at the sight, for the hunk of stone was nearly half his height, and sounded heavy enough to crush him flat without a second thought; not something anyone would want so airborne and so nearby. He approached the whooping Judy, whose ears finally swiveled about and sprung high at his presence. "Oh, Nick!" she exclaimed, stepping into the hole and reaching down with both paws, sparing the fox as many a glance over her shoulder as she could, "I'd like you to meet..." she grunted while pulling him out, "Bo!"

Nick's poor heart could hardly handle any more surprises in so short a span, as what she pulled out from the ground was, without exaggeration, the largest rabbit Nick had ever the happenstance to encounter. Bo staggered to his feet and gripped his knees, both bunnies covered in dirt (he more so) as he heaved and huffed to catch his breath. Standing upright and facing Judy, the rabbit's smiling eyes were easily level with Nick's nose, while the tips of his notably, disproportionately small ears reached as high as the fox's own ear tips (which, for varying reasons, were also up). It was not only the height of the rabbit disturbing Nick, but the bulky physique which better fit a tiger or water buffalo.

"I tell you h'wat, that was more trouble than trusting a fo-" he began, the triumphantly gleeful smile on his face fell fast as he realized who, or rather what, 'Nick' was. Nick heard the colloquialism "More trouble than trusting a fox" plenty, and behind his facade of disapproval he savored the blatant internal writhing of Bo; he could imagine that the rabbit's one thought in the entire world was to return to the hole he dug and pull the boulder back over him.

How easy it would be for an experienced hustler – like Nick – to lead the meat headed bunny along like a balloon on a string. But then there's Judy to consider, considered Nick, noting her subtle-but-growing distraught, It would absolutely crush her to see that happen to him. To be fair, he seems genuinely remorseful for that slip-of-the-tongue, so there might be some salvaging of all this. "-A false positive, I agree," interrupted Nick, but with the half-second eternity of Bo's hanging syllable there wasn't much to interrupt. He pivoted to gesture at the boulder with a congenial smile, "That was no small feat, the thing must weigh half-a-ton, but what happens to it now that it's out of the ground?"

Bo seemed at a loss, but thankfully Judy was there to keep things along, first mouthing a quiet "Thank you" to Nick before punching Bo's side (which, judging by his reaction was little more than a nudging). "Oh! Well, uh," he began, clearing his throat and rubbing the nape of his substantially dirty neck, "Once it's out, it needs moving, right? No point in digging it up only to sit there. So, we call out some of Judy's siblings, they have their poles and carry it on out of here to the road."

"There's someone with a bigger truck that comes by to haul it off to the quarry," continued Judy, giving Bo a reprieve from all the attention, "but they're gone for the TBR; should be back next week."

"Splendid," said Nick, still smugly smiling as he extended his paw to the larger of the two rabbits, "I don't think we've been properly introduced. I'm Nick, Nick Wilde."

"It's an honor to finally meet you Mr. Wilde, it really is. I'm Bo Briar," he said with a relieved grin and taking the fox's paw in both of his; after clapping them clean to the best of his ability, of course. It was obvious that those mitts could crush tree branches in their grip, but he held Nick's paw with no more pressure than if a strip of linen draped on his palm. "I'm so sorry about what I said, it jus' kinda... slipped out. I didn't mean anything by it, honest."

"Not at all, Bo, and please, call me 'Nick'; 'Mr. Wilde's my dad," he said with a nudge of his elbow, That should put him back at ease. Honestly, I'm not sure what I'd do with a rabbit that could break me over his knee. He's strong, sure, but the attention he'd attract... hardly something a fox needs. Besides, he already thinks the world of me, I'm sure Judy saw to that. As predicted, Bo loosed a hearty, if modest, laugh, perhaps more to release whatever tension he still held from not only almost besmirching himself, but by proxy, Judy's judge of character. He still lead Bo along, but only to bring him back to the comfortable, confident rabbit he saw prior to the faux pas; that was likely the rabbit Judy fell for, and diminishing him would be the most grievous thing Nick could think to do.

Judy cleaned off her paws using the underside of her shirt before putting two fingers to her mouth and blowing a high, shrill whistle. Nick's ears flicked towards the house as he heard a rhythmic, enunciated "Hup, hup, hup!" with the pitter-patter of a dozen tiny feet, coming with the peculiar clatter of wood. He took a step back as a line of seven young rabbits marched double-time, holding between them two long wooden poles and four more of about half the length, with the smallest toting coils of rope. He recognized some of these small bunnies as the ones in the yard when he arrived, which meant the ropes were finished not minutes before. This place is so hyper-specialized it's unnerving, pondered Nick, watching fluid movements of lashing a wooden frame so that the two, longest poles were wedged parallel into the dirt beneath the boulder, with two of the half-sized on top of and perpendicular, similarly underneath the boulder.

The smallest barked out commands, but it seemed more like timing cues than instructions. The final pair of poles were lashed beneath the perpendicular pair so that they were parallel to the longest set; when it was all said and done with everyone in their places, it was something of a palanquin that six smallish rabbits could hoist, topped by the seventh. "Great work, guys," beamed Judy, and in a motley chorus her brothers and sisters replied, "Seeya later Judy! Bye Bo!" and one even said, "Hi, Nick!", and off they went, "hupping" to the directions of the smallest riding the boulder.

"How long did it take to practice that?" asked Nick as the three of them walked back to the house.

"It took them about a week to get the frame secure, and another week for the timing," she explained, "Luckily, no one was hurt during the practice runs."

"A whole two weeks?"

"It was during the school year, so they could only practice after class," Bo said in absolute sincerity.

"Oh yes, of course," he relented, pitying the missed nuance. Nick sidelong-glanced at Bo and then cleared his throat, springing Judy's ears like sails in a tailwind.

"Got a cough, Slick?" she asked.

"Only an itch," said Nick, and exchanged knowing glances with Judy.

When rumors pop up about a new Howler Den, it's Judy & Nick on the case. Nick's street-smarts & sharp nose, along with Judy's keen hearing & low profile, lead the ZPD to three busts in the last year alone; none too shabby for a few rookie cops. They developed a code to signal one another when they suspect Night Howler pollen activity without alerting anyone else, and in this case, Nick cleared his throat in a very specific manner to express his suspicions. The response of "Only an itch" simply means he doesn't have concrete evidence, yet.

"By the way," he continued, addressing them both, "I heard from Gideon about his pie-eating contest. Must be the first time a fox is hosting an event at the TBR." Judy's eyes went wide in the knowledge that her partner never threw around idle thoughts when it came to their signals.

"Oh, I am pumped!" Bo exclaimed, "Normally, I don't touch pies, but the contest is only an hour before the tractor pull, so I can carb cycle no problem."

"He's actually going to pull the tractor," Judy said.

"Okay, great. Why?" asked the fox, numerous questions buzzing around his brain and not nearly enough time to ask them all.

"Training!" said Bo, "I've only got three more pounds before I qualify."

The group stopped as Nick touched his temples, "I'm missing something. Qualify for what?"

"The Mammalian Martial Arts circuit, of course, I'll be the first bunny ever to get in," boasted the large rabbit.

"Aiming for the lightweight division?" Nick said with a smirk.

"I wish! No, I can only get into the straw weight class, that's five down from lightweight, but it's 70lbs minimum, and I'm only 67." Nick cleared his throat again, but Judy knew this wasn't a secret signal; this was the fox catching his own breath. She grinned that Bo got one over Nick without trying. "I can't go into the ring as a big, fat bunny, though, I need to pack it on and build it up!" he raised his arms and flexed everything from elbow-to-elbow, to which Nick feigned a moderately impressed expression.

And here I thought there were only three weight classes, "Well, you two are certainly made for each other, each breaking the rabbit mold in your own, unique ways."

"Shucks, Nick, that's awful kind of you to say," Bo beamed, looking to Judy as she leaned into him, "I'll even be moving to Zootopia as soon as I qualify, and then we're moving in together."

"Ohh," said Nick, his finest performance yet, "Going all the way? I wish you both the best of luck. Now, I'm sure we've dallied enough and you two still need to wash off. Let's go find a hose, I doubt Mrs. Hopps would appreciate all that dirt you'd track in."

Judy, unlike Bo and most of the Zootopia, knew when Nick put on a face; she saw plenty. This one was like the many he used to get into places he shouldn't be or convince other mammals that they enjoyed his company when they actually didn't, yet it was also like the face he used to hide from others. Her heart sank, yet suddenly bolstered back up when she felt Bo's arm around her shoulders to guide her along, "C'mon, slowpoke, or that fox is gonna beat us to the house!" It seems they were racing over the empty field back to the fence, but she couldn't recall when the race began, only that they were running, and from Judy's perspective, Nick ran from her.


	10. Chapter 10

Nick was almost to the fence, but he slowed intentionally. A red flag flew in Judy's mind even though Bo urged her on to overtake and win the race. With a mighty bound, the two rabbits sprung nimbly over the picketed fence... while Nick ducked behind it. It was too late and the trap sprung, a line of readied bunny children stepping on the hose to build up pressure, and letting fly a torrent of water as Judy & Bo cleared the fence. With the fox's height, he must've seen it at the last minute and reacted appropriately. As for the older rabbits, they couldn't stick the landing and so fell upon soft grass, all while the hose kept spraying to the cheers & laughter of her siblings.

"Judy, Mom says you took too long talking, so we were t'come out and get you," said one of her younger sisters.

"Yeah, but she also, she also said you weren't t'come in all dirty, and stuff," said a younger brother.

"That tricky fox called for a race after he started running," laughed Bo, standing and helping Judy to her feet, "Some would call that 'cheating'."

"How else could I get you two lovebirds back to the house?" smirked Nick, leaning on the fence.

"We saw Mr. Wilde running up, so we got the hose!" said another younger brother.

"But we're not suppose t'spray him, 'cause he's a guest," said another younger sister.

"Finally," said a voice from on high, about 3 feet off the ground and hanging out a window, "the both of you, change into some dry clothes, breakfast is almost ready. Come around to the patio, I'll bring you some towels. Nick, sweetie, it's great to see you again," Bonnie greeted, and then withdrew back inside.

Judy & Bo shook water from their fur as Nick sauntered to the gate and let himself in, the younger rabbits running to the front at the promise of breakfast. He had that air about him, that sure-of-everything, untouchable air of when she first saw him, "Better hustle, you two, wouldn't want to keep the family waiting."

Oh, Nick... thought Judy.

Gideon sat in the porch swing with a mug of coffee, idly rocking to-&-fro, chatting with a towel-pile adjacent Bonnie; the motherly rabbit rose up to address the three of them but paused, instead descending the steps and meeting them on the grass. "I saw the boulder as it ran by, the thing was enormous," she said in a sweet tone, handing out the towels to each of the rabbits. Gideon wasn't far behind, handing off the mug to Nick.

"Don't worry, I didn't drink any, can't stand the stuff," he said to the other fox's questioning glance.

"Bo, you get to the outdoor shower first, Judy, you don't mind waiting, do you?" instructed Bonnie, already ushering the larger rabbit towards a shed jutting out from the side of the house. Judy, a bit taken aback, shook her head in agreement but it seemed her mother already accepted some implied compliance, and instead turning to Gideon to solicit his aid, "Gideon, dear, could you help with the water boiler? The hot water spigot is sticking again."

"I could help with that, Mrs. H," offered Bo, draping the towel around his neck.

"Oh, you're a sweetheart, but the boiler's around the corner from the shower shed, you know that. I want you cleaned up ASAP, so you head off and we'll go to the boiler," insisted Bonnie, "it'll be quicker that way." By some unknown strength of will, Bonnie was guiding the farm boys away from Nick & Judy, and soon enough, it seemed like they were the only living souls for miles. Nick glanced back to a nearby planter, and had himself a seat on the knee-high brick wall; Judy joined him.

"Moms, right?" commented Judy.

"Yep," said Nick, thoughtfully. He sniffed the coffee, and then sipped it, made a delighted noise at the taste, and drank a bit more, "She makes amazing coffee, though." He handed the mug off to a towel-shawled Judy, whom took a sip from the other side of the mug's rim, and then folded his paws to lean forward, arms resting at his knees.

The early-to-mid morning light and sounds covered the silence between them, before Judy spoke up, "I owe you an explanation, Nick."

"You don't need to," he said, looking to his partner and friend.

"I want to," she replied, and looked up at him, handing back the coffee mug for the fox to sip. "Bo & I... we knew each other since we were kids. We were in all the same classes, we graduated together, and I didn't know it until recently, but he had a crush on me." She smiled, and chuckled a bit, "The other kids called him 'Bo Branches', because he was tall, gangly, and looked like a tree. Everything about him was long, except his ears.

"When I came back, during the pred-scare, I was officially on sabbatical but honestly, I left the force. I was in a deep, dark place those months away from Zootopia," she accepted the coffee mug and took another sip, "It took everything I had to get up each morning, only to wait for the day to end. I couldn't sleep, but I couldn't stay awake, either. I heard the news from the city, about another 'savage attack' or another protest. It felt like the world burned and I was the spark. Everything I believed in, everything I tried to do to help the world is what broke it." She looked down into the black coffee, and softly smiled, "Then I met Bo. I didn't recognize him at first, because he was already 3'2" and 64lbs, but I saw him digging out a boulder in the fields. Mom told me to bring out some lemonade to him, and I didn't realize she put two glasses on the tray until I almost dropped them. He came out of the hole, and I reacted in the same way you did."

"Except you squeaked?" Nick asked with a smirk.

"No!" she snapped, but admitted, "...Yes. It was the first time in almost a month that I felt anything. I watched him dig out the boulder, and he said he could get it out faster if he had someone scooping out the dirt while he braced from underneath. So, I helped; we got it out, and then talked, drank lemonade... that helped, a little. He was only a friend at that point, but it was nice to have a friend." She handed the mug back to Nick, and as he took a sip, she leaned on his side.

"Umm..." said the fox, "...There's more, isn't there."

"Yeah..." she sighed, bringing her legs up and under the towel, now wrapped around her with only her toes sticking out. "I was still in a bad place, Nick, because whenever I thought I could lift myself up, I remembered what I did to Zootopia. There were some nights, when everyone was asleep, that I snuck into the kitchen..." She took a deep breath, "At first, I only stared at the knives..."

Nick's fur stood on end, and his arm hugged around her protectively.

"Every night, I got a little closer, a little surer that it was the right thing to do. I managed to get a hold of one, draw it out so I could see the blade. Eventually, I stood with my wrist over the sink, and knew how to... how to do it so it was fast, so that it would... ya'know, do it. I read police and coroner reports like magazine articles, because I wanted to be prepared for anything & everything in the ZPD. I also knew how it would affect my loved ones, but I still thought it was the right thing to do. To atone for what I did.

"I didn't know it then – I didn't really notice much of anything – but Bo slept on the couch because he was working double-time to get the crops out for market. I guess he heard me, because the next thing I remember, he grabbed the knife away from me and I was crying into his chest with a whirlwind of emotion. Bo carried me to the couch, holding me all through the night, and it was the first time I really slept in weeks.

"After that I went to therapy, and eventually fell more in love with Bo. Everything he did made me happy, even when he wasn't trying to... especially when he wasn't trying to," she said with a giggle, "We talked about him going to the MMA, I helped him with digging rocks or plowing the field, and he helped me become me again." Her legs folded out from the towel to rest on the ground again, reaching out to grab the coffee and sitting up, Nick stretching his back.

"He's my rock," said Judy.

"He's a rock, alright," answered Nick.

"Hush, you," she reprimanded with a smirk.

"Since we're opening up, I have a secret, too."

"Is that so," Judy swirled the coffee in the mug, "Is this something I'll need to write you up for?"

"Only if you have jurisdiction from a much higher court," he said, glancing skyward. Judy saw this face only once before, and that as on the train of the night prior. She was excited and scooted closer. "I visited my parents yesterday, and truly spoke to them for the first time in nearly 20 years." Judy gasped quietly, clutching the mug and raptly listening. "My dad's a tailor, and my mom keeps house. They're both alive & well; as it turns out, they've been waiting for me all this time. It began on that night I told you about, with the Junior Ranger Scouts.

"I ran home after the meeting, crying, but it was the same day that Dad opened his own shop, and they were so happy. I didn't want to ruin it, so I kept it all in and pretended everything was okay. This went on for years, until teenage angst came out, and I hated them for loving me with all the hormonal logic I could muster. It got worse, and when I finally came to my senses, it seemed too little, too late.

"So, I drifted from them, and pushed away from them, but never forgot them, always wondering if they still loved me. I couldn't go back until I made something of myself, something they could hold up and say, 'That's our son, that's Nick Wilde'." He pulled out his phone and brought up a photo of him & his parents to Judy's gasp of delight, "This is us from yesterday. I'm seeing them again next weekend and you're welcome to come along, if you want." To this, Judy balled up with a high squeal of glee. "I'll take that as a 'yes'," Nick said with a smile, and put away his phone. "Speaking of parents," he continued, rising to his feet and accepting the mug of coffee, "I think yours grow impatient, but before that you need to know what I found in my short time here: I think that 'pie-eating contest' was a ruse to poison a lot of rabbits at once, and Gideon was the intended scapegoat."

"'Poison'?" exclaimed Judy, leaping to her feet, "Nick, this is something you should lead with, not drop at the last minute."

"I got caught up in the moment," he explained, "Anyway, the danger is neutralized. The poison was in the whipped cream, not the pies. As long as it stays locked up in Gideon's fridge, it won't hurt anyone."

"What does this have to do with Night Howler pollen?" she asked, thinking back to the coded signals.

"That was the 'poison', probably some new kind of concentration. I only had a little bit of whipped cream and my heart stopped," he sighed, shivering at the realization of how close to death he really was, "thankfully, Gideon knew CPR."

"Oh my gosh..."

"I don't know the motive of poisoning a bunch of rabbits with Night Howler pollen, but I think the distributors are using food and flower vendors to sell their product. I saw some suspicious individuals yesterday, and from what information I could get from Clawhauser, one of them has a criminal record. I should hear back from him when I return to the city on Monday."

"Nick, we can't go back to Zootopia if there's something going on in Bunnyburrow! This won't be the only attempt, and bunnies from all over the city, all over the country will be here," she said with growing dread, but also determination, "Young, old, all kinds could be targeted, and much more than poisoned whipped cream."

"Juju!" came a voice, the two of them spinning about with bright, cheery faces, bantering idly as Bo and Gideon came up, "The shower's all ready for you, hun," said the boy rabbit, himself still looking matted with damp fur, but significantly cleaner; as it turned out his fur was actually earthen brown underneath all that mud. "Thanks, Bobo," she said, ignoring a muffled snicker from Nick.

"You two go on ahead, I need to make a phone call," he mentioned. And so, the two foxes remained in the yard as Nick turned towards the fields and pulled out his phone, dialing up Chief Bogo.

"Who ya' callin', Stretch?" Gideon asked, paws on his hips and smiling wide.

"You know who I'm calling," replied Nick blandly, not sparing a glance as he put a paw in his pocket.

"What?" replied the stouter fox, expressing amused incredulity, "Now how would I know something like that?"

"Because you're up here," he explained, and pulled his paw from his pocket to tap at his head, "Everything I know, you know, ergo, you know who I'm calling. Now go away, I have important police business to discuss." Gideon stood in front of him, not wearing his flannel and jeans but the tropical shirt, tie, and slacks, arms crossed and smirking, "Clever fox. How'd you know?"

"Judy didn't even glance in your direction," Nick began, putting the phone to his shoulder and speaking softly, "The fact that you're antagonizing me means there must be something very important to discuss, but it can wait." He put the phone back to his ear and grinned, "Good morning Chief, sleep well? ... (Loud, disgruntled noises)... Uh huh, uh huh, that's super, listen, I and probably Judy caught ourselves a real nasty cough down here in Bunnyburrow... yeah, we're both staying a few extra days until we get over it... thanks for understanding, big guy, I owe you one. Yeah huh, buh-bye."

"More code, Officer Slick?"

"The chief now knows that Judy & I are on the prowl for Night Howler pollen activity, and our absence from Zootopia will be put down to sick days. If we're caught frolicking about, he'll yell at us and 'punish' us with parking duty, the whole shebang, but it won't go on our records as delinquency or insubordination," he continued to speak in a disinterested, unattached manner, "But you already knew that, being a hallucination, as you are, and talking aloud helps me think."

He stashed his phone and picked up the coffee from the planter, having himself a seat once more. Facing the house and reclining, putting on his best relaxed demeanor, Nick raised the mug to his mouth to sip minimal amounts of coffee and speak with his imaginary associate.

"So, Dawson, what's on your mind?"

"You're a laugh riot," said 'Dawson', sitting himself adjacent, his face then softening into a smile, "Seems to me there're easier ways to kill a bunch of bunnies than 'poisoned' whipped cream."

"It's a singular way to go about it, I'll admit, but manufacturing pollen into a stable, cream-like substance can't be easy or cheap."

"Or, if mass death is really the order of the day, why use something as haphazard as a 'pie-eating contest'? Why not simply... poison the water supply? With poison?"

"There's no guarantee that the rabbits who ingest it, even the sensitive ones, will react the same way I did. They could go into shock, or roll around on the ground in a crazy acid trip," pondered Nick, ruing the fact that he didn't have any coffee left in his mug, but still he held it to his mouth to cover his moving lips.

"You'd think whatever villainous mastermind behind this scheme would have some kind of tried-&-tested poison to fall back on, like arsenic."

"What if the Night Howler pollen wasn't meant to kill a bunch of rabbits?"

"A bunch of diff'rent kinds of rabbits, 'from all over the country' she said, young & old, from burrows & cities alike."

"It's a field test," realized Nick.

"And poor ol' Gideon would be an easy patsy to blame it on if things went wrong, and they will."

"One thing I can't quite figure out, though..."

"And what's that, Stretch?"

"Why are you still here?" asked Nick, looking directly at 'Dawson' as he set his coffee mug down, "After sleep, food, and caffeine, why am I still suffering hallucinations from the small amount I ingested?"

"Well," the faux fox said with a wide, toothy grin, "that's the million dollar question ain't it, Basil?" And then he wasn't.

Nick loosed a heavy, annoyed sigh before standing and making his way to the farmhouse. He glanced off to the distance at the distinctive midnight shade of flower, standing vigilant against the insects that proved so harmful to the Hopps' produce, Something synthetic, maybe?

Up the patio steps he climbed, ducking his head to avoid the low (proportionately) porch ceiling, and then the patio door, letting him to the feasting rabbits within. It was cacophonous joy that filled the house, dozens upon dozens of rabbits joined in the kitchen to gorge upon pumpkin pancakes and vegetarian bacon. There at the counter stood busy Gideon & Bonnie, feverishly flipping flapjacks from pan to plates, operating a full 8-burner stove. Much to Nick's relief, he went mostly unnoticed edging along the counter to where three coffee pots steamed patiently; not completely unnoticed, actually, as both a cleaner Judy & Bo waved at him from across the two, long rectangular tables, to which he waved back.

"You look like you're enjoying yourself," said Nick to Gideon, leaning near the kitchen sink with a refilled mug of black coffee, Ahh... caffeinated bliss...

"It was certainly a blessing that Gideon decided to stay for the TBR," Bonnie said as the stouter fox chuckled, "Our house isn't quite so busy the rest of the year, but we've got Stu's side visiting, and my side visiting – don't get me wrong, I love each and every rabbit under this roof – but I won't deny, it's nice to have someone helping in the kitchen that I don't have to watch like a hawk."

"Y'hear that, Nick?" remarked Gideon, exchanging grins with Nick, "A rabbit turning her back on a fox."

"Now stop it, you two, that's quite enough of this 'fox-&-rabbit' business," she said with a quick turn on the both of them, a greasy wooden spoon wagging dangerously, but turning right back to deal with the veggie bacon, "I know you mean it in good fun, but I've been trying to get that out of my bunnies for the longest time now." The air grew heavy in the kitchen, for the voice of Mom spoke and all with ears listened, some not daring to chew. "There're a lot of rabbits coming into Bunnyburrow, and they haven't all accepted foxes as friends, even the ones from Zootopia, but... gosh darnit!" she declared, striking the butt of his wooden spoon into the nearby counter, "If I can trust a fox, then-" she stopped to look about at the gravely silent kitchen. "Alright, let's clean this up; we've got lots of work to do but not all day to do it!"

As a wizard commands the elements and a general their army, so did the dozens upon dozens of rabbits turn from jubilee to pandemonium, clinking dishes and shifting chairs at the Hopps matriarch's command. Nick barely leapt away from the sink fast enough, skulking as swift as a breeze across the counter top and chair backs, straining all a fox's innate agility afforded him to escape the kitchen without spilling his coffee.

In the safety of the patio entryway from whence he came, Nick witnessed a bewildering tumult of washing, drying, and stacking dishes; and poor Gideon, clinging to the counter near the stove while trying to turn off the burners. There stood Bonnie, calm in the storm caused by the swarming rabbits, whose very movements seemed to produce a vacuum of air to whip gales through the kitchen.

It was only seconds that Nick could catch his breath before realizing that he was still in mortal danger: standing in one of three exits from the kitchen. Thanking his advantage of height and all those chin-ups he suffered through at the ZPD academy, Nick reached high to grab one of the patio's rafters and hoist himself away from the path of a bunny deluge.

"You can let go now, Nick," came Judy's calming voice after some many minutes.

"I rather like it up here," he determined, claws digging into the woodwork, feet locked around the rafter, one paw holding out his mug of perked black, and him staring intently into the ceiling.

"I'll take this," came Gideon's voice, relieving the weight of the cup, which Nick released.

"I gotcha," came Bo's voice, whose mitts braced Nick's as he tensed before releasing the rafter. Righted, the taller fox stood and straightened his back, receiving the coffee from his fellow fox, and downed its remains in a single gulp. Quietly and observed, he walked into a kitchen which had not a single dish, pan, utensil, or chair out of place; rinsed out his mug in the sink and set it to dry on a nearby dish rack. Nick strode back to the patio entryway and addressed.

"Well," he said, casually smiling and folding his paws in front, "that was exciting."

"I dunno 'bout you," interjected Gideon, "but I find it terrifying."

"It takes some getting used to," beamed Judy.

"I been here a while and I still ain't used to it," huffed the stouter fox.

"And the day's only begun, so I will need to speak with the two of you," he said, nodding to Gideon and Judy, and then to Bo, "privately." Bo instantly looked put-off, silently questioning between Judy and Nick, even Gideon, who only shrugged in sympathetic confusion. Nick approached the larger rabbit with both paws on his broad shoulders, "This is nothing personal, and I do like you," he began, dropping all pretense in a moment of rare, absolute honesty, "but I cannot stress how important it is that you are not involved in this next conversation. Normally, I would deceive you in some clever and well-meaning way to leave us alone, however, I will not do that, because I suspect there will come a time in the near future when we will need your help; more importantly, I respect the love you & Judy have for one another, as well as your personal integrity. For now, I ask that you trust me, and let us speak privately. Please."


	11. Chapter 11

In the back of Gideon's van, the three sat amongst tormented silence.

"Thousands of lives endangered... to test a narcotic?" Judy said with understandable disbelief, "I'm not sure which is worse, that or poisoning."

"They're both pretty bad," Gideon said weakly, leaning forward with his face in the folds of his arms, propped up by his knees, still shaking with the knowledge that he was almost a part in it. "At least we dodged a bullet, didn't we?" he said, a scared smile on his face as he looked up to the officers, but frowned when they did not return his relief.

"No, not yet," answered Nick, fingertips to his skull.

"What? Why not? All we gotta do is get rid of the whipped cream and no one's the wiser, right?"

"If this is a field test," Judy said, looking out through the open back doors of the van at Bo doing pushups a good ways off, many of her brothers and sisters piled on top of him, "then someone's watching, and without that whipped cream they'll know someone's onto them."

"Or maybe they'll think the whipped cream went bad?" Gideon tried, looking more scared than before.

"We also can't get rid of that much of it without someone noticing," Nick pointed out.

"So we'll make more," Gideon tried again, "But... but we won't tell anyone, we'll make it proper this time, without the bad cream."

Judy & Nick exchanged expressions, and then she perked her ears looking to Gideon, "That's not a bad idea, if all we need are pies with whipped cream."

"A 'false positive'?" quipped Nick.

"We'd never know what they were looking for, though," realized Judy, "Bunnyburrow doesn't have a forensics lab equipped for that kind of research, nor do we have the time to find out."

"On top of that, how are we going to make that much whipped cream in two days?" asked Nick.

"I could make maybe a third of that vat if I went non-stop both days," admitted Gideon.

"Judy & I combined might be able to help, but I don't know if you noticed, I'm not the burliest of the bunch," Nick said, giving his arm a weak flex. The three of them seemed to reach the same conclusion simultaneously, and looked out at Bo, bicep-curling with 6 young rabbits hanging off his forearms at a time.

"So... we tell him we need more whipped cream, is all?" Gideon suggested, "Make it a competition?"

"Bo's not really vain, he'd be happy to help either way, but we don't need to tell him why we need more of it," said Judy, looking uncomfortable at the prospect.

"No," decided Nick, looking across the yard's growing glare at the heavily-built rabbit, "No deception, no hustle. He comes in as a partner, not a mark. Finnick & I never lied to each other or kept secrets, unless dire circumstances demanded it, and we always came clean as soon as possible. Besides," he said with a sly grin, "We're all foxes here, and if a fox can't trust a fox, who can they trust?"

"That's that, then," she declared, and stood up in the van, "I'll pull a few strings to get the cream, and then meet you guys over at the bakery as soon as possible. Like Mom said, 'We've got lots of work to do but not all day to do it', so we gotta hustle."

"Hope this doesn't put a damper on your TBR plans," lamented Gideon.

"This is way more important," she assured, "I'll let my folks know, though, they'll understand."

"Don't let them know too much, this is supposed to be a secret," reminded Nick.

"Trust me, Slick, I can handle my parents," she said with confident grin, strutting off towards Bo. Bo, by the way, was visibly happy to see her, and while the foxes couldn't make out what she was saying, the larger rabbit certainly seemed eager to lend his aid. They touched noses before she went off to the house with some of her siblings, and he bounded over to the van.

"Judy said you guys need my help with something? Something, umm..." he leaned in and whispered, "...Secret." As though the mere mention that something could be unmentionable was itself unmentionable.

"Hop in, we'll tell you on the way," Nick instructed, pointing a thumb at the back of the van. He went around to shotgun, Gideon to the driver's seat, and Bo closing the doors behind him as the engine revved up. In practiced flicks of the wrist, both foxes donned their protective eyewear before pulling out from the driveway.

"So... before this whole... secret thing happens, can I ask a question?" Bo asked.

"I'll allow it," replied Nick, "Gideon?"

"No skin off my nose," answered the baker.

"Okay," continued Bo, somewhat put-off but no worse than before, "what's with the sunglasses, it's not even noon yet?"

"Sunblindness," answered both foxes simultaneously. "I know of a vixen who never wore eye protection and she went sunblind by 25," explained Nick, grinning over his shoulder, "full nocturnal. She can't handle sunlight, nearly burns her retinas."

"Well... could I get some sunglasses?" the rabbit asked hopefully. The foxes exchanged glances, and then Nick popped open the glove compartment as an off chance. To Bo's great luck & delight, a third pair of shades sat there, not Aviators like Nick's or Raybands like Gideon's, but a bright green pair of glow-in-the-dark sunglasses; regardless, Bo was pleased-as-punch to wear 'em, holding onto the back of the seat with a broad grin and a bob of his head.

"Now that we're all foxes here," Nick began and Bo's ears sprang up, gripping the back of the van seat with palpable excitement, "It's time to trust you with crucial, confidential information. No one else can know about it." Nick pivoted in his seat and lowered his sunglasses to fix Bo in place; Bo nodded obediently and decisively. Facing forward, Nick continued, "I am not here on official ZPD business, I'm actually off duty, but I have reason to believe that there is covert Night Howler activity in Bunnyburrow."

"But, midnicampum holicithias is harmless?" said a bewildered Bo, "So long as you don't eat 'em, of course, and we'd lose a lot of our crops to bugs without 'em."

"Yeah, until someone found a way to-" started Gideon.

"-Make cream out of it," Nick quickly interrupted, shooting the stouter fox a glare behind his darkened lenses, bringing his paw no higher than the back of the seat to make the 'cut it' gesture under his chin. Nick tried to convey Bo's ready knowledge of the pred-scare – namely involving Judy and the sensitive nature thereof – through thought alone, but was glad that the stouter fox didn't continue his observation, even if he did look a bit put-out. "I don't know how yet, but the cream Gideon whipped was tainted with Night Howler pollen, which is highly addictive and psychotropic, and I suspect a higher concentration than what's on the streets. The pie-eating contest was supposed to be a field test, taking advantage of the wide variety of rabbits that's in Bunnyburrow right now."

"This is heavy stuff," Bo said, "I mean, it sounds ridiculous, it can't be real."

"It is, every word," assured Nick, "And I know how it sounds, trust me."

"You've been in Bunnyburrow all of a day and you've found some... big conspiracy to get thousands of bunnies hooked on drugs? With whipped cream? Forgive me if I'm not convinced," Bo replied, crossing his arms.

Imagine that, he's pushing back. Good. Nick turned around and took off his glasses with a wry smirk. "Tell me, 'Bobo', do you trust Judy?"

"Of course I trust Judy," he said coldly, sitting up, "and I'm trying to trust you, Nick, but so far everything I've heard is crazy! So c'mon, what's this really about? Are you throwing a surprise party for Judy?"

"No," said Nick.

"A surprise party for Judy's parents?"

"Still, no," insisted Nick.

"Are we gonna pull a prank on someone?"

"No," said Gideon.

"Going for drinks, then."

"Later, if you're good, but no," said Nick.

"You two aren't an item, are you…?"

"No," answered the foxes in unison.

"Because if you are-"

"We ain't 'an item', Bo," Gideon said, glaring over his shoulder.

"You're not gonna kill me, are you?"

"Maybe…" Gideon grumbled.

"You know what, I regret bringing you in on this. Give me those sunglasses," Nick said, holding out his palm to the rabbit.

"No, they're mine!" Bo declared, holding the glow-in-the-dark glasses to his face.

"No, they're mine," corrected Gideon, "and you haven't earned 'em, yet". Bo frowned, but returned the eyewear.

"Fine, so what comic book villain poisoned the whipped cream for the pie-eating contest?" asked a grumpy Bo.

"The whipped cream is bad, okay?" said Nick, Not technically a lie, but I guess we're bordering on dire circumstances, "And you're being a big baby. I thought this was going to be fun spy-games stuff, you know, pretend it's a big whodunit with conspiracy & intrigue, something to pass the time, but I guess that's out the window."

"It's real bad whipped cream," sighed Gideon, picking up on the cue, "Nick had some last night, threw him for a loop. We figured between the three of us, we could get some more whipped up before Monday."

"Well, I mean… you could've just said that," tried Bo, "I would've played along."

"And ruin the suspense?" said Nick, "Besides, you've already brushed the whole thing off as 'crazy', I think was the word you used."

"It's almost like we were building up to something, huh Nick?" prompted Gideon.

"Ah well," said Nick with a blatant shrug, "such a shame."

Bo seemed contemplative, fingers drumming on the back of the seat, and the foxes basked in the sound of his turning gears. "So… midnicampum holicithias pollen, huh?"

"Yep," said Gideon.

"In the whipped cream?" continued Bo.

"You got it," said Nick.

"That Gideon whipped."

"Hand-whipped," corrected Gideon, "gives it that nice fluff you don't get from a blender."

"Hmm…" pondered Bo, and once again the foxes basked in quiet smugness, "If the pollen were a honey, it could be mixed into the organic oil used to make the whipped cream."

"Synthetic honey, perhaps?" asked Nick, handing back the glow-in-the-dark sunglasses.

"A synthetic hive, more likely, it's not unheard of," said Bo, donning the eye protection.

"I'm missing something," interjected Gideon.

"The midnicampum holicithias extract in that cream, hypothetically," Bo began, "would need to be a very thin honey, because there's not much else you can do with pollen and it'd have to mix with the organic oil without being noticed. But that means bees got close enough to gather it up, which doesn't happen; bugs won't go near the midnicampum holicithias, because the pollen makes them loopy."

"Well, that settles it, then," Gideon said with a hint of confused frustration, "That's the last time I use out-of-town supplies for my whipped cream."

"You shipped in out-of-town cream?" asked Bo, "No wonder it went bad."

"Me? No," answered Gideon, glancing over his shoulder, "Tad Wooler did, he had a cousin with surplus, but I guess that'll teach me to go cheap, huh?"

"Wooler? The ram from the pawn shop? You mean Dent Wooler, not Tad," corrected Bo, "he's the one who comes by and picks up the boulders."

What a coincidence, pondered Nick.

"No, definitely 'Tad'; Dent introduced me to him about a month ago. I never seen him before, but I don't ever go into the pawn shop, so I figured Dent brought him in to help run the place. Seems like a nice guy, got some horn and ear missing on this side, though, so he must be the rough-&-tumble type," Gideon explained, gesturing with his finger. Nick lowered his sunglasses to frown at Gideon, "Oh, what'd I say this time?" he huffed.

"Gideon, does 'Tad' look like this?" asked Nick, pulling out his phone and showing a mug shot of a ram missing chunks from his ear and horn on the same side. Bo leaned in to get a good view of him.

"Yeah, that's Tad, that's him exactly," he answered in disbelief.

"Nick, why do you have his mug shot?" Bo asked, suddenly recalling that Nick was a cop.

"I saw him yesterday vending flowers on a street corner," Nick said, "and he about jumped out of his wool as soon as a he saw me. He certainly reeked of suspicion, but not mindicampus-... no... medicamp...?"

"Midnicampum holicithias?" offered Bo.

"Madnicampfem-"

"Midnicampum holicithias," repeated Bo.

"Holidayseeus?" tried Nick.

"Midni-" began Bo.

"Midni-" repeated Nick.

"-Campum."

"-Campum."

"Holi-"

"Holi-"

"Cith-i-as," finished Bo.

"Cynthia's," said Nick.

"Night. Howler," urged Gideon.

"He didn't smell of Night Howler pollen," Nick concluded.

"I tried," groaned Bo, "Why's this ram so suspicious?" The three finally made it to Gideon's bakery and piled out of the van, Nick & Bo both needing a good stretch.

"Because it wasn't a few hours later that on the same block of the same street, a food vendor was selling mushrooms-on-a-stick, covered in so much and so many spices that it easily masked the smell of any Night Howler pollen which a fox, like myself, might pick up," Nick elaborated.

"How d'you figure?" challenged Bo, "I've had those 'shroom-kebabs here in Bunnyburrow and they're delicious because of all those spices. On top of that, you make it sound like every fox in Zootopia is undercover for the ZPD."

"That would be amazing, but no," argued Nick as Gideon, sensibly keeping to himself, unlocked the backdoor of the bakery, "The fact of the matter is, Night Howler pollen is incredibly light, able to drift upon the slightest breeze where other pollen might be too heavy; that's how the flowers pollinate without the need for direct contact with insects, such as bees. I can't pronounce the name as well as you or Judy, but I do know that Night Howlers only repel insects when their pollen is freshest, which also puts them at their most toxic-"

"Everyone knows this, that's why certain crops are sown at certain times of the year, to synchronize with the midnicampum holicithias pollinating cycle, and as a minor correction, Nick, the pollen doesn't drift very high, 12 inches at the highest. This low-lying cloud of pollen acts as a natural form of insecticide that's worked for generations, and yet we bunnies aren't high 24/7," extrapolated Bo as they went inside with a patiently listening Gideon.

"It also makes places that frequent their use, i.e. Bunnyburrow, a hyperallergic hellhole for those sensitive to the pollen, i.e. foxes. Gideon," called Nick, the baker's fur standing on end as he was dragged back into the conversation, "do you remember when you had the 'fox flu'?"

"Yes, and thank you for bringing up such an uncomfortable subject, I rather hoped this morning was somehow overshadowed," grimaced Gideon, "I'm surprised you city foxes even know 'bout it."

"We 'city foxes' get it, too, but perhaps not with the same severity."

"Really? I thought it was only a farm fox kinda thing."

"Wait, stop," insisted Bo, "now you're telling me 'fox flu' is actually a thing? I thought it was something fox parents made up to get their kids out of school." Both Nick & Gideon glowered at Bo.

"Bo, my Pa made me go to school for the entire year I had fox flu. Everyone called me 'Gunky Gideon' until I started punching teeth in."

"Oh! Oh..." moaned Bo, index fingers a steeple with self-consciousness, "Okay, there are lots more things making lots more sense now..."

"Splendid," said Nick with a condescending smile, "So, the air in Bunnyburrow is filled with miniscule particles of Night Howler pollen; young foxes show symptoms at the age they start walking on their own, in the ambient haze. It could take some years to fully develop immunity, depending on the concentration, in which time they suffer runny noses, weepy eyes, and possibly sinus infections."

"I wanna go on the record and say I never called you 'Gunky Gideon'," Bo said quietly to Gideon.

"Well, I never called you 'Bo Branches'," Gideon quietly replied.

"Nowadays," Nick continued, unaware of the private conversation during his exposition, "foxes have better access to medicines to help this process along. Why am I explaining this? Because I don't have the same natural immunity to Night Howler pollen that Gideon does, additionally, it would seem that I have a special sensitivity to it and the sparse particles which manage to float up to my altitude. Lucky me." Nick then turned his attention to... no one in particular, saying, "And that's the million dollar answer," with a dramatic gesticulation of presentation.

Bo & Gideon exchanged a discrete shrug, the latter soon unlocking a fridge and heaving out the aforementioned vat, still sealed tight. The three stared at it – Gideon with concern, Nick with apprehension, and Bo with skepticism – before the baker popped it open. Within was the undeniably delicious looking whipped cream, perfectly smooth with an alluring curl towards the top; Gideon sighed with pride and dismay, knowing its tainted contents.

"It looks fine, it smells fine," commented the bunny, "you'd think there was some discoloration or odor the way you go on about it."

"Perhaps we can run our own 'field test' and see how you react," replied Nick, "Healthy young buck like you, might get a dizzy spell or sore throat at worst."

"A real public servant, you are," mumbled Bo.

"I'm off duty."

"Got a spoon?" he sighed.

"Have I 'got a spoon'," grunted the baker, pulling out a sizeable stainless steel spoon from a nearby drawer.

"Bangs, this is an experiment, not euthanasia," Nick cautioned, "we only need-" But Bo already scooped a wallop of a dollop, which caused Nick to reel back from the sight of it, knowing what that much would do to him. 'Not really vain', indeed, scoffed Nick, watching in horror and disgust as the bucktoothed mouth opened wide to swallow it. Both foxes gawked as Bo smacked his lips and made something of a show to lick the spoon clean while jutting his chest out.

"That was so good I might have another," boasted Bo, tapping the spoon on the rim of the vat, "and from the sounds of it you're dumping it out anyway, so I'll-" He cut himself off with a guttural lurch, the rich color of his nose & ears drained to a pallor as silverware clattered on the floor; he gripped the sides of the vat for dear life, hunched over the white substance. In a grotesque cacophony, any hope for the whipped cream to crown even a single slice of pie met a swift & decisive end.

"There's the discoloration you wondered about," cringed Nick.

"And the odor," choked Gideon.

"I hate you both," gurgled Bo.


	12. Chapter 12

"Thanks for not getting that on the floor," Gideon said while fetching Bo some water.

"Don't mention it," he replied weakly, accepting the token of refreshment.

"At least in polite company," quipped Nick as he sealed the vat, coughing some with a wave of his paw over his nose.

"I really liked that vat, too," lamented the stouter fox, "I'll stash it in the closet and then haul it off to a compost heap as soon as I can. The cream would clog up my drains if I tried pouring it out."

A sharp knock on the backdoor brought the three of them to attention, and then Nick snapped his fingers, "Why, that must be Judy," which brought a different kind of smile to each of their faces. Gideon, the closest, opened the door to a grinning Judy Hopps and a pickup truck, filled with canisters of cream from none other than Ms. Clara's Soy Farm.

"Hey guys, sorry it took so long," she said, turning back and giving a thumbs-up to the bovine driver, a slender old bison, whom giggled and killed the engine before stepping out.

"Gideon, my red velvet cupcake, why didn't you say you needed cream?" she said in a subtle low and a warm smile, "You know I'm always happy to provide you whatever you need."

"Gosh, Ms. Clara, I'm sorry I didn't say something sooner, but I woulda felt bad if I turned down what was given to me," he said, reaching up to drop the tailgate, "It made some real nasty stuff, though. Say, d'you still have that compost pit where you dump all yer bad cream? I could use that right about now."

"Of course, always, just put it in the back of the truck and I'll truck it away," Clara tittered, and smiled wider as she saw Bo step quickly into view to touch noses with Judy, "Ohh, Bo, as handsome as ever, it's great to see you again. Thank you for taking out that stump last week, it was frightfully ugly."

"Any time, Ms. C," he grinned, hoisting Judy up onto the open tailgate with ease.

"Oh my, and this charming fellow must be Nick," she cooed, extending her hoof to the taller fox as he hopped up into the bed of the truck with Judy.

"The pleasure's all mine," insisted Nick with a disarming smile, touching the very tip of his muzzle to the back of her knuckles in a manner most dapper.

"Such a gentlefox," she swooned, batting her long-lashed eyes before bending forward to lean on the side, watching as Nick & Judy wobbled a canister to the edge of the bed so either Bo or Gideon could haul it into the kitchen. "It's so wonderful to see foxes and rabbits working together. It seems like only yesterday- oh, listen to an old fuddy-duddy like me, reminiscing when there's work to be done. I brought some sandwiches for everyone, you young folk need your strength!" she said, humming a happy diddy as she reached behind the driver's seat of her truck to pull out some paper bags.

"Err, what'd you mean jus' now, Clara?" asked Gideon, pausing the production as everyone looked to the bovine.

"Oh, nothing but an old biddy's ramblings, pay no attention to me," she insisted, setting the paper bags down in the bed, "How're Goliath & Ruth enjoying their Caribouan Cruise? I'm so envious of them; maybe I should go one of these days."

"Well," answered Gideon, rubbing the nape of his neck, "They turned their phones off, so I guess they're having fun. Should be back later this week," he looked to Nick as he hoisted another canister of cream, "They'll wanna meetcha, Stretch, if you can stay?"

"That depends, if Nick wants to use up all his sick days in a week," Judy said, smirking at her partner.

"I have a very convincing cough, years of experience," the fox smirked right back.

"I hope you don't mind my prying, Nick, but I know nothing about your parents. What do they do?" Clara asked, anticipation high in her tone.

"I don't mind at all, Clara," assured Nick, sitting down on side of the truck with his feet on the wheel well, Judy straddling the side of the truck nearer the bovine, inspecting the bag lunches. This extra space gave Gideon & Bo room to load the vat of whipped cream into the bed. "John & Jackie Wilde, he's a tailor and she keeps house, lived in Zootopia for as long as I've known them, so at least 30 years," he said with a grin, "Also, I suggest you not open this unless absolutely necessary, it's pretty bad."

"Turkey, cheese, & tomato sandwiches for the foxes," listed Judy, handing one to each, "Lettuce, cucumber, & bean sprouts for the rabbits. Nothing for yourself, Ms. Clara?"

"Oh, you're a sweetheart Judy, but no, I have plenty to eat back at the farm."

"Hey Nick," said Gideon after long minute of thoughtful chewing, "You said your Mom's name was 'Jackie'? This is a shot in the dark, but her maiden name wouldn't happen to be 'Savage', would it?"

"Yes, why?" Nick asked hesitantly.

"Oh my gosh!" Judy suddenly said, ears sprung like traps, "Are you two cousins?"

"Uhh, I-I dunno, I mean, Ma's maiden name is 'Savage', and she always said that her 'Jackie' was 'lost to some Wilde fox in the city' – I never figured she meant 'Wilde' as a name until now. Heck, Ma's from a litter of six, so... maybe?"

"That'd be an amazing coincidence if you weren't cousins," Bo said, finally swallowing his mouthful of sandwich.

"I guess Mrs. Grey didn't go into depth about this wayward sibling of hers," Nick remarked, "Ringing any bells, Clara?"

"Mmmm," she lowed in thought, "None a bit. I didn't know Ruth very well before she and Goliath moved into town from Knottedwood. He cleared the land and built that house himself, you know," Gideon grunted a monosyllabic confirmation to this, "He makes the most wonderful furniture, why, I have an endtable myself, lovely little thing. Well, I won't keep you youngin's any longer, not when there's a whole Saturday of youth ahead of you."

"Thank you again for all the help, Ms. Clara, you've been amazing," said Judy, neatly folding up her paper bag and hopping from the side of the truck.

"Oh, t'weren't a thing at all," tittered the old, slender bison, "And don't you worry none about this nasty stuff in here, I know what to do with it." As the four stood at the bakery's kitchen, Ms. Clara drove off into the hazy afternoon. Nick, Gideon, & Bo each made to enter the backdoor and nearly jumped as Judy stood in their path, arms crossed and smirking.

"So," she said.

"So..." replied Nick.

"There's some... explaining that needs to happen?" suggested Bo.

"There is," she agreed, and turned on a heel to walk inside.

"I... didn't believe them about the whipped cream, at first," admitted Bo, "I honestly thought they were stringin' me along."

"It took quite a bit of convincing, but it all came out in the end, wouldn't you agree?" asked Nick with broad smile.

"He upchucked into the vat," explained Gideon, leaning to Judy with a paw at the side of his mouth, to which she grimaced.

"I still hate you both," scowled Bo, sweeping a glare at either fox.

"Be that as it may, the issue at hand is the whipped cream," asserted Nick, "We've got a day-&-a-half to get enough made so it doesn't look like we threw out the other stuff."

"This keeps getting weirder and weirder," grumbled Bo.

"You're right," Judy said to Bo, and then held his paw, "Thank you for sticking through with this, Bobo, it means a lot to me."

"Okay, Juju," he said, and leaned in to touch noses. Nick & Gideon exchanged incredulity.

"Just like that?" challenged Gideon.

"Just like that," affirmed Bo.

"And you're not writing it off as an upset stomach, because you ate too much whipped cream at once?" criticized Nick.

"This guy chugs pudding before juggling kettle weights," Judy explained, "He's got an iron stomach."

"Where were you when we had to prove Heaven & Hell to this guy?" Nick asked Judy.

"I was off doing impossible things, Slick," she said with that cocky smirk tilting her head, "Where were you?"

"Going insane," he answered, gesturing with a twirl of his fingers at the sides of his head, "But I'm willing to let it slide this one time, since we're on such a tight schedule."

"Right, so, what we've got here is enough cream to last the week," began Gideon, stooping to retrieve his big bowls from the open shelf under the counter, "Bo, you're whippin', keep it a quick, steady pace. Nick, you're pourin' in the sunflower oil, not too much but not too little at a time. Judy, there're a whole buncha plastic containers in the backroom, I need you to clean 'em, dry 'em, and fill 'em with whipped cream." Judy's face hardened into grinning determination as she saluted, and then sped off to gather up the Tupperware.

"A little bit of sunflower oil, for that Grey's Bakery froth," Nick thought aloud.

"Actually," began Bo, "It's a common misconception that whipped cream is mostly cream. It's actually one part cream to three parts organic oil, usually sunflower."

"Wow, learn something new every day," Nick said, and then exchanged an eye roll with Gideon to once more pity the lost nuance. "And what're you doing, oh master of the kitchen?"

"I'm mixin' the cream and the dry sweetener," he explained, retrieving whisks for Bo and himself, "I should have enough for all of it."

They worked through the afternoon, in time feeling the machinations of team cooperation for a fluid system. As the last drop of cream mixed with the last bit of oil, Judy sealed the last Tupperware into the last fridge-space. Sunlight travelled up the wall towards the ceiling in a rich, earthen gold, speaking its final thoughts of the day. Bo lay collapsed on the kitchen's tiled floor, ice packs covering from shoulders to fingertips.

"I'm skipping arm-day this week," he mumbled, Judy tiptoeing up-&-down his back.

"That's my big bun," she cooed, crouching to stroke his ears, toes curling around his neck to continue the therapeutic kneading.

Nick swabbed up the remains of spilled cream & sunflower oil (as much as a mop could handle, in any case, since it also got on him), while Gideon washed the mixing things.

"I'm surprised to see neither hide nor hair of your sister, being in town as she is," Nick whispered while leaning in to address the stouter fox.

"Oh, she's probably with friends, or something," he said, if a bit dejected, "haven't even heard from her, yet. Think I should call?" He pulled the sink's stopper to let the sudsy water drain out.

"A text message wouldn't go amiss. I'll take care of drying these," offered Nick, taking up a towel. Gideon smiled and grabbed a towel for himself, patting his paws dry before pulling out his phone. "So, how's our whipping boy?" Nick asked, returning to normal volume.

"He's fine," Judy answered.

"I'm fine..." Bo grumbled.

"Alright, up up, big guy," she said, climbing off and clapping his shoulder, "We're gonna be late for supper."

"Can't have that," he grunted, sliding his arms out from the limp ice packs as Judy gathered them up.

"D'you bunnies need a ride?" Gideon asked, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

"Thanks, Gideon, but I promised my parents to meet them at the bus depot as a condition of 'hanging out' today," she sighed with anticipatory frustration, "My Uncle Terry's coming in tonight, and he's still a bit..." she tapped her temple with an apologetic shrug, "They're gonna need all the help they can get."

"Oh, Uncle Terry," said Bo, rubbing the back of his head in uncertainty.

"Perhaps better to skip those introductions, at least tonight," suggested Nick, stashing the mixing bowls and whisks away.

"Let me know if you meet up with Esther, okay?" said Judy as she & Bo went out the back door and around to the front.

"One of these days, I will get a conversation pass her," said Nick, leaning out the kitchen door to peek through the bakery's window and spotting the pair of rabbits on the sidewalk, "Any word yet?"

"No," admitted Gideon, "but it's only been a few minutes. C'mon, we need to get the sunflower oil outta these clothes."

"The washing machine is...?"

"I have it 'round the si- What're you doin'?" asked Gideon, halting as he brought up the dish soap from under the sink.

"I'm... undressing?" guessed Nick, his shirt already halfway unbuttoned.

"Don't you wanna, ya'know, go up to change, and then bring the oily clothes down afterwards?" suggested Gideon, earning a bewildered stare from Nick.

"No, because that would require multiple trips and I am a lazy fox," he explained, "Besides, we saw each other naked this morning, remember?"

"Oh, oh yeah, huh..." he trailed off.

Nick shrugged off his shirt and tie to hand them over to Gideon, "Plus, your bakery is up against an empty lot, which is up against the woods, so I'm not altogether worried someone might see me without my shirt."

"Right, because that'd be dumb, to worry about it, I mean," Gideon tried, with an awkward chuckle.

"What's the matter, Bangs, is it because Bo's got a six-pack and you've got a keg?" asked the taller fox while leaning on the counter, "That doesn't mean you should think any less of yourself. Look at me," Nick then gestured to his own physique, "I'm a twig, I have to run around in the rain to get wet."

"N-no, it's not that, I jus'... I'll get your shirt done first, and then I'll do mine," he said, squirting a bit too much dish soap directly onto the oil spot for scrubbing, and then initiated with gusto. "I got cooking oil on my sleeves all the time, that's why I roll 'em up."

"Sensible," replied Nick, I imagine you keep your pants clean by pulling them down before using the toilet, too. He studied the baker a moment, and then smirked, "You must have a really embarrassing tattoo, huh? You know, it's only dyed fur, shave it off and it'll grow back in a few months."

"I don't have... I mean, this morning, that jus' kinda happened, a one-time thing, but we had a good laugh about it, right?" he rambled, all the while scrubbing harder, fiercer, feverishly on the shirt until it ripped with a harsh yelp of personal annoyance, "Gosh, Nick, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to... I have some other shirts you can borrow-"

"Bangs, relax," assured Nick with a quick pat on the shoulder, "it's an old shirt, I have more, and this'll make a decent dishrag."

"Okay, okay," he recovered, gradually, still lamenting the torn shirt before balling it up and tossing it into a nearby bucket.

"This means you're starting on your shirt now, right?" Nick tested. Gideon froze like he did in the shower, as if completely vulnerable before the taller fox. Whatever you're bashful about can't possibly be that bad, he speculated, his quirked brow & wry smile a downy challenge that the stouter fox could still turn down. However, the frown on his face and the lump in his throat spoke volumes about how cornered he felt, not by Nick, but his own inner turmoil.

"I-I-I guess so, huh...?" Gideon said, shuffling his feet to face Nick. His paws trembled as he tugged at the top button, gazing down at it, his breath shallow & slow until it finally popped open. His looked up to check on Nick, but found that he was practically lounging against the counter, glancing off to some other direction in patient nonchalance. Gideon continued downward, checking less and less as more and more buttons opened.

"There, see?" said Nick as Gideon wrung his paws around his shirt, "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"I...I guess not, huh?"

"Now, give us a turn and we'll see what you're so worried about," Nick said, gesturing with a twirl of his finger, Nothing on the front, but then, you weren't hiding your belly this morning, were you? Gideon froze again, and stiffly shook his head. Nick quirked his brow higher, "Look, whatever's back there I promise I won't tell anyone, okay? Cross my heart," and drew an 'X' over his chest.

The stouter fox finally whimpered some relenting affirmation and pivoted ever-so-slowly, laying his shirt out on the counter to busy himself. Deciding to meet him halfway, Nick stepped around to Gideon's back for inspection. There's nothing here, except an obvious need for a trim, he observed, leaning in and squinting in the dim light, his nocturnal eyes compensating adequately, Some minor discoloration, but nothing weird, except how tense Gideon is. He glanced down at the curled tail, its puff-o-meter cranked to 11, Time to diffuse this situation.

"Ahh, I see..." he began, and before Gideon's fur could stand even more on end, he quickly continued, "There is this... spare tire!" He clapped the stouter fox's love handles, something he saw other cops doing to Clawhauser and hoped against hope this might have a similar effect. Gideon breathed sharply, paws gripping the counter for dear life as he loosed a shrill, extended string of rapid-fire, uncontrollable laughter. Oh, thank goodness, begged Nick as he kept at it, tickling the rotund sides until Gideon rolled on the floor, arms tucked in to protect from the onslaught. The muttered phrases "I hate you" and "I hate you so much" were disproved by the enveloping merriment.

Nick vaulted back and edged towards the door as Gideon immediately sprung to his feet with fangs and claws, "I'mma kill you dead, Stretch," he vowed through heaves and panting.

"You'll have to catch me, first," Nick teased, swishing his tail and whipping out the door, pursuit hot on his heels. He was chased around the van, ducking around one corner and then doubling back, springing around to blindside the riled Gideon for a tail-tug. A mad dash broke out towards the woodland at the end of the lot, laughter echoing through the air.

"You get back here so I can kill you!" demanded Gideon.

"That's not how incentive works!" called Nick, hurdling the lower rung of the fence between the woods and the lot. He dashed into the carpet of foliage and twisting roots of the twilight tree line for several yards before looking over his shoulder to the barely visible, Bunnyburrow sky beyond the canopy, but saw no sign of Gideon. He stopped to regain his breath, realizing that he'd run into a firefly-lit area he'd never been before. "Bangs?" he asked the dim light, and pivoted to return to the empty lot when he was tackled to the leafy ground.

"Looks like I gotcha, Stretch, 'cause you can't outrun me in these here woods," he growled, pinning the slenderer fox to the ground with curled lips and bared fangs. He opened his jaws to close them again around Nick's nose and chin, but only for an instant. After a smug smirk, he sprung with agility unbefitting his portly physique and darted back to town, roaring in laughter.

"Hey!" called Nick, clambering to his feet and running after his adversary, "I get to bite you back, that's how this works!"

"Not if I touch the van!" Gideon declared, hopping the fence and dashing with all his strength.

"No fair, making up rules!"

"Cry cry, baby foxy!"

Nick held advantage in a straight run, closing the gap as soon as he touched the empty lot, but Gideon's head-start was substantial. Both foxes leaped in the last few yards, the stouter reaching for the bumper at a long dive while the taller pounced at a sharp angle. In a cloud of dust, the two slid an extra few inches with Nick the one pinning.

"I got the tire, you can't bite me," mocked Gideon, and indeed, his paws pressed against the rubber wheel.

"That doesn't count," huffed Nick, crossing his arms.

"It's part of the van, ain't it?"

"Well, I still get to bite you because I caught you before you touched the van."

"Nuh-uh, you can't bite me after I touched the van, that's what I said."

"Don't make me tickle you again," warned Nick.

"Get off me!" laughed Gideon, bucking him to the side before rolling to his feet, extending a paw to aid Nick. Both foxes laughed as they clapped dust off themselves.

"I'm hungry, are you hungry?"

"I'm starving," announced Gideon, "so tonight, we're having stir fry."

"Oh, is there a Bamboo Paradise nearby, and if so, can we also get wontons?" asked Nick as they walked around the van, to the stairs leading up to the apartment.

"Nope, I'm making it myself," Gideon revealed, ducking first into the bakery's kitchen to pull close and secure the exit.

"Right, how can you want to cook anything after today?"

"I guess I'm in a real good mood right now," beamed the stouter fox, twirling his keys around a finger and climbing the stairs up to his apartment door, unlocking the passageway to his bachelor den and the promise of dinner beyond, "but first, a shirt."

"Yes, we wouldn't want to give Bo any more credence than he already has," Nick remarked, heading into the bathroom to search for one of his scruffier shirts, and change out for a cleaner pair of pants. In the solitude of the bathroom, Nick took a moment to think while clapping dust from his tail into the tub. So, why's Gideon so nervous about his back, anyway? Sure, he's pudgy, but he's no Benjamin Clawhauser, and it shows more on his front anyway. Maybe he simply doesn't like others behind him... he did say he was teased as a kit, it's possible he was traumatized by others sneaking up on him. Enough of that over a long period of time would make anyone jumpy.

Nick pulled on some lounging clothes and walked out into the living room, hearing the sounds of kitchen-based preperation. Before Nick made himself known, he stood in front of the couch, but out of sight from the kitchen to study the family picture on the wall. At first glance, it was clear where Gideon's bangs came from, the paternal fox boasted a shaggy pair that hung past his uniquely dark muzzle, 'Goliath', huh? he pondered, only now fully grasping the sheer size of Gideon's father, That's an earned name if I ever heard one.

Goliath looked somewhere between a wolf and a fox, in both size and appearance, especially the paws big enough to cover young Gideon's torso. Were they ever raised in anger, I wonder... He thought back to a particular class in ZPD training, nicknamed the "Bad-Touch" class, which taught cadets to recognize signs of physical abuse and violence by touch, since most mammals have fur thick enough to hide scars & bruises; Nick lamented slacking in those lessons for this specific moment.

He returned to the portrait on the wall, eyes following around the family until he saw whom, he reasoned, was young Esther. She certainly takes more after her father, look at those bangs, he thought, and those ears, the arms, the eyes... nose... Hmm, not much of Ruth in her, is there? Nick stepped up to get a closer look, but also into line-of-sight from the kitchen. Gangly sort, isn't she, doesn't look anything like her mother-?

"You said you wanted wontons, Stretch?" interrupted Gideon's voice.

"By what sorcery are you making wontons?" asked Nick, quickly pivoting as though in mid-step.

"Evil most foul; promised my first born for the recipe."

"Well, they'll be waiting a long while on payment, won't they?" said the taller fox, halting in the kitchen entryway to gawk at the golden pile of stir-fried rice. Sweet heavens...

"Haha, you're funny. Before you sit down, you'd best set the table," instructed Gideon, wearing a clean shirt but still in his jeans, "Dinner with the Greys ain't a spectator sport."

"Ugh, work," groaned Nick, hovering over the chair before standing back up. He pointed his finger to recall where he saw his host stash the dishes, "So that's Ruth & Goliath over the couch, is it?"

"Yep," chuckled Gideon, pulling out the wontons from their oily dip to set them on a dripping tray, "I call 'em 'Ma' & 'Pa', though, a bit more convenient for me."

"For Esther as well, I imagine. She certainly takes after your father."

"That's 'cause she takes after only him; we're half-siblings, Essy & me," Gideon explained, taking out a serving spoon to scoop from the steaming stack, into the bowls Nick retrieved.

"Oh… is this an awkward subject or…?"

"Not a bit," chuckled Gideon, pulling a chair to sit down as Nick did the same, "We come to the understandin' that there's more to family than blood. 'Sides, we both got Pa, and Ma was Esther's wet-nurse, so we might as well be siblings." He then grinned mischievously, "Unless you & me really are cousins, then maybe we can make an exception if you take a fancy to her."

"Mmh," moaned Nick, gasping as he swallowed his first bite of the stir-fried rice, eyes rolled up into his skull, "Nope, it's settled, we're tying the knot right after dinner, cousins or not," and proceeded to shovel rice into his mouth.

"And what about the dessert?" Gideon managed amid laughter, a paw covering his mouth to catch any flying grains of rice, "I have a peach pie in there I haven't cut into yet."

"Bring it, we'll make it a wedding pie," Nick said, finishing up his bowl and thrusting it over the table, "right after this next helping."

"Alright, slow down, Stretch, you're gonna choke," he chuckled, standing up to scoop some more.

"You're right, Dad would flay me alive if he found out I was wed without one of his suits," Nick realized, accepting the new bowl of flavorful rice, "and there's still the issue of the commute. I'd spend all my time going back and forth from the precinct, I'd have hardly any time to enjoy this delicious food."

"Well, at least you changed your mind before leaving me at the altar," Gideon said with feigned lament, "that'd've broken my heart."

"And then you'd never, ever speak to me again?"

"I'd certainly never cook for you ever again."

"Whoa, whoa," Nick said, paws up in feigned concern, "let's not joke about that."

"I don't think I'm ready to settle down anyway," said Gideon as he rose from his chair, and then turned to fetch a pair of brews from the fridge, "So we'll have to settle for a bond of brotherhood, or something." He popped the caps and handed one bottle to Nick, readily standing to accept it.

"We should say a toast," pondered Nick, "I think that's how this works."

"Alright, umm…" Gideon began, "To trust, no matter if you're a bunny or a fox."

"To friends," continued Nick, "who don't keep you in a box."

"To… good food," said Gideon, and then catching the cue, he recalled a tavern toast he heard a while ago, "may it never lack?"

"To family," he clinked the neck of his bottle with Gideon's, "that always has your back."

Gideon brightened.

"Cheers," said Nick, and swigged his drink.

"Cheers," replied Gideon, and did the same, "So, I think that makes us brothers, now?"

"I think that makes us musketeers."


	13. Chapter 13

A knock on the door disturbed an otherwise quiet evening of television for Nick & Gideon. The dishes were washed, leftovers stored for later consumption, and a double feature of "Wail of the Bunshee" & "The Pharabbit's Curse" aired on the Animalia Movie Channel. Gideon thought little of the interruption, lowering the television's volume before rising to accept the late visitor, but Nick wasn't so sure.

"Are you _expecting_ anyone this late?" he asked in a quiet tone and stern expression.

"If worse comes to worse, there's always a cop in shouting distance," he replied.

"Cute, Bangs, but I can't make my gear appear out of thin air."

"There's a shotgun behind the couch if your danger sense is tingling," Gideon explained quite casually, "but it's not late enough to be 'this late' yet, so I ain't too worried."

 _Since when was there a shotgun behind the couch?_ Nick wondered, turning about in his seat so to peer down the back of the furniture. _Well I'll be darned, there it is. Hope it's registered, I'd hate for this whole bonding thing to turn sour because of something like illegal firearm possession. That looks like a… yep, that's a_ _Wincheetah_ _, big gauge, too_. Nick reached down to pull it closer, not fully from behind the couch but enough to give it the once-over, _Safety's on, loaded but not in the chamber, look like he takes care of it, at least, and the serial's not scratched off. He's even got a "Property of…" label on here._ The door opened while Nick inspected the firearm, so he set it _carefully_ back into its hiding spot.

"Well, hey, Essy!" came Gideon's voice, "I didn't think to find you on _my_ doorstep, of all places. What brings you around?"

Nick's ears flicked as he leaned in his seat ever-so-slightly, _The infamous Esther Grey,_ he thought, trying to get a look at her from around his host's bulk, yet failing.

"Oh, you know, missed the first train, lost my hotel reservation, no available rooms," she said, her voice unmistakably tired, but she covered it admirably, "I took some pictures of 'no foxes' signs, so I'll have some fun with that when I get back to the office. I don't suppose you have a vacancy? Ma & Pa are on their cruise, and of course, they locked everything up tight as a clam, so there's that."

"Yeah, they might've left an extra key if you house-sat for 'em," he hinted of a gloat.

"I found a _very_ good deal on a hotel room, and I didn't think I would need to… you know what, I'm tired, okay?" she said, and Gideon's tail swept behind him in anticipation, "You were _right_ Giddy, I _should've_ offered to house sit while they were away. There, happy?"

"Well, gosh, Essy, if I was _right_ about something that you _disagreed_ on, that'd make you…?"

"That would make me _wrong_ ," she mumbled.

"Sorry, Essy, what was that? I couldn't hear you from _all_ the way outside."

She took a deep breath, "I was _wrong_. Can I come in now?"

"Sure thing, you hungry? I'll heat up dinner," Gideon said with a cheery tone, grabbing her suitcase and stepping away from the door to let her enter. "Nick, this is my sister Esther; Essy, this is Nick," he introduced, albeit succinctly.

"Giddy! You did that to me in front of your friend?" she asked with indignation, stepping into view as the definitions of "disheveled" & "rushed". As Nick suspected, she was tall, probably taller than Gideon, but her height was due to a pair of long legs uncommon to any fox he ever knew. Unlike her younger self, gangly as she was, this mature version filled out with athletic muscle, and further unlike a certain bodybuilding rabbit, she retained the fox's iconic slenderness. And then there were her bangs, fruitlessly tucked behind ears that put her height well over her brother's (when they were up).

"To be fair," Nick began as he stood, "we've only been friends since yesterday, so we're practically strangers. Nick, Nick Wilde, pleasures all around, I'm sure," he said, extending a paw in greeting. She seemed stuck, long ears jutting forward so that her bangs fell careless about her wide, blue eyes; much like Gideon's eyes. _Uncanny_ , thought Nick, _everyone I'm introduced to today seems paralyzed when they see me. If I could but harness this newfound power, imagine how quickly I'd rise through the ranks of the ZPD._

"Yes, hello, 'Nick' was it?" she finally managed, slipping into (almost) flawless nonchalance and a (somewhat) clumsy handshake, "Likewise, pleasures and all that. If you'll excuse me? I must _discuss_ something with my brother." Nick stepped out of the way and gesturing with a polite wave of his paw that she might pass. He made to sit down as she walked stiffly over to the kitchen, but the instant she was out of sight Nick sprung up to skulk over to the entryway, ears up & keen while staying out of sight. "Why is _Nick Wilde_ in your living room, Giddy?" came a harsh whisper under the hum of a microwave.

"Oh," replied a deeper, calmer whisper, "him bein' here ain't a _problem,_ is it? I would've said something if you called, ya'know."

"Literally _thousands_ of foxes in Zootopia, and you have _him_? _Why_ is he anywhere _near_ your apartment?"

"I seem to recall something about you and a 'Nick Wilde', now what was it…"

"Giddy…"

"That's _right_ , you've got yourself something of a crush, don'tcha?" he said. Nick could _hear_ his smug grin. "Well, he's only gonna be here for the next day or so, but now that I think about it, he _did_ say he might stick around for when Ma  & Pa come back from their trip."

"If you breathe of a _word_ of it to _any_ one…"

"Don't worry, sis, I ain't a blabber mouth." The microwave dinged and Nick scampered silently back to the couch, watching the nearly muted horror flick still on the television.

 _Ahh, the sweet sound of fox siblings bantering,_ chuckled Nick, though inwardly, _Makes me wish I had a brother or sister of my own to cross swords with._ He then thought to Finnick and their "clash of wits", _He was a bit more at-my-throat than I'd've liked, but I can't deny, I certainly learned how to deal with short fuses._ Glancing up, he saw Gideon walking out and back towards the couch. "I'd say you enjoyed that," commented Nick in a low voice.

"I waited _years_ for that, Stretch, you have no idea," he said with a heavy flop onto the couch, as though it took all his mental faculty to win one on his sister. "A warm meal and she'll be fine, probably had this whole conversation mapped out, anyway."

"You can 'smell her schemes a mile away', as I recall," he pointed out.

"And I know when her plans fall through; this was a big one."

"Evened out the scoreboard, did we?"

"Not even close" chuckled Gideon, "she's still got a triple digit lead. I'd need grandkits before she even gets a boyfriend to close _that_ gap."

"So she's a free agent, then."

"You could say that, sure," faltered the stouter fox, his attention went back to the television, finger tapping on the volume to up it a few notches. His eyes darted once to Nick and then to the screen.

"You're an open book, Bangs," Nick explained, smirking with amusement.

"Alright, I'll say this: you and she would get along _great_ ," he said with a huff, "but heaven knows if I'll ever catch up going against the _both_ of you."

"We're musketeers, remember? All for one, etc." Nick reached across Gideon's back and clapped his shoulder, and though it wasn't obvious Nick thought he felt a flinch. Gideon smiled at him with a furrowed brow, and the taller fox returned to his side of the couch after a soft chuckle.

"Well, kits," Esther said some many minutes later, walking out from the kitchen, "it's been a long, _tiring_ day, so you'll understand if we catch up tomorrow."

"Certainly," agreed Nick as Gideon turned off the TV, "We'll swap 'long days' over waffles topped with blueberries."

"Waffles again?" snickered the stouter fox, "I can make other breakfasts."

"Shh! Esther doesn't know that."

"Is your cot still in the closet, Giddy?" she asked, eager to get back to the idea of sleep.

"Naw, I threw that away months ago; the canvass was beyond _any_ hope of repair."

"Do you have an air mattress, then, or something akin to it?"

"No" he explained, "it's not like I have others over too often, ya'know." A heavy silence of realization enveloped the three foxes, and Esther's face formed the slyest grin Nick ever had the horror to witness.

"Well, then," she began, any trace of exhaustion gone like wisps of smoke in a gale as she bent over to pick up her suitcase, and turned on a heel to strut towards Gideon's room, "Since there should still be a bed-for-two out _here_ , and a bed-for-one in _there_ , I will bid you both a _very_ good night." The baker's face fell as he deflated on the couch, one-upped in his moment of glory. "Oh, Nick?" she said with a nod towards her brother, before disappearing through the door, "he's a snuggler."

"I am _not_!"

He was.

Of all the awkward situations Nick faced in the last 24 hours, or even in the last week, none compared to the degree of personal discomfort he found himself in now. From a previous observation, Gideon slept like a rock, albeit a quiet one, but sometime during the night Nick awoke to an arm pinned against his chest and the other over his head, courtesy of _another_ set of arms locked around him. There was no talking his way out of this one, not a hustle, trick, or negotiation could save him, and his strength was not enough to pry off some dozens of pounds of hugging strength bolted to his torso. Any attempts to wiggle free met a tighter hold, and when Nick decided to bite the bullet by waking Gideon through voice alone it, too, proved in vain.

"Well, ain't so clever _now_ are we-"

 _Will you go away!_ Nick fumed, glaring at the adjacent hallucination lounging in _his_ boxer shorts, _I have more 'Gideon' than I can handle without_ you _here!_

"Rude," he scoffed, turning onto his side to face Nick, and in doing so, turned more than simple positioning, "I guess I'll have to be the _fairer_ one in this conversation," she said. Where once was half-naked chubbiness mere inches away, instead lay Esther in Nick's brand new purple, silk tailored shirt; _only_ the shirt.

 _Fine_ , answered Nick after a considerable pause, _What do you want? I already solved your stupid riddle, and the whipped cream problem isn't a problem anymore._

"Oh, Stretch," she cooed, "this isn't your victory lap, heck, the light isn't even green, yet."

Nick's brow furrowed for a different reason. He reached down to brace Gideon's steel-lock grip in an attempt to better face his persistent antagonist, and counted off the ways he was tired of their shenanigans. _Okay, first off, you're a figment of my imagine, so you only know what I know. Secondly, I can't see the future, I barely see past lunchtime. And third, how can you even_ assume _that's there more to this when I've been in Bunnyburrow a grand total of 24 hours?_

"Well, that's irony for you," she said, finger curled in a bang, "You don't even know what you know or don't. I guess it hasn't reached the thinking part of your brain, yet."

 _That's swell, say, how about you be useful for once and tell me what_ great deduction _my subconscious wants me to know about._

"Okay, you ready, Basil? Get ready to have your _mind_ blown," she began, "you had your paws all over the wrong 'Grey'," finished 'Dawson', indeed, because he lounged in boxer shorts once again, but in the same provocative position.

Nick flailed and growled to clap his claws around the _faux_ fox's throat, ignoring the tightened grip, but the hallucination was gone. He forced himself to relax so that Gideon would loosen and allow air back into his lungs, _My paws weren't 'all over' him, I was tickling him, there's a big difference_. Nick blinked, looking down at the 'snuggler' nearly curled into him, and braced a paw to his forearm to wriggle about as carefully as he could. _Let's here…_ pondered Nick, reaching over with his free arm to the best of his ability, and brushed at the very tip of an ear. It flicked, _Well I'll be, there's movement, now let's see how much more I can get out of him_.

He kept at it, reaching a claw-tip inside to graze the tender fuzz. Gideon let slip a sleepy giggle and shrugged his shoulder, giving Nick enough slack to tug his arm free. _Going well so far_ , he considered. With his newly reacquired appendage Nick was at liberty to reach for more ticklish spots, but knew full well to only tickle the minimal amount needed to regain his freedom. The stouter fox giggled again as Nick continued, and with a particularly high laugh Gideon's grip released so each could roll to opposite sides of the flat mattress.

 _Guy's got a mean hug,_ thought Nick, sitting up to roll his shoulders. There slept Gideon, arms wrapped about himself and, unlike the strong-yet-gentle hold he had around Nick, his claws scraped at his own pelt. _Ohh…_ he realized, _a bit more anxious than I thought. Alright, umm… here, snuggle up to this_ , Nick grabbed his pillow to set against the slumbering fox's folded arms, which embraced it readily. Seated back on his ankles, Nick studied his bedfellow, tapping a finger on a knee as he recalled what he could from the "Bad-Touch" classes in basic training, and then glanced up at the family portrait depicting Goliath's enormous paws.

A quiet sigh escaped his lips as he set his palm to Gideon's shoulder, and began to sift through the untrimmed fur. Almost immediately, he felt scar tissue, _How did I miss this?_ he wondered, _Well, I tickled with the tips of my claws, of course, but still… It's all down his arms, too_ , what he could reach around the hugged pillow. Tugging at the undershirt, the felt up-&-down Gideon's back, _These can't be claw marks, there's no uniformity at all, and most of these he couldn't possibly reach, so they're not self-inflicted. Maybe some kind of whip or switch, but he said his Ma didn't spank with anything except her paws, and I doubt he'd joke about that. Unless Goliath got some discipline in on the side, opting for an implement, but even then, this much scar tissue can't be from discipline alone; this is practically torture._

Releasing the shirt, Nick reclined against the couch with a heavy sigh, _That's a real nasty past you got back there, Bangs, I wouldn't want anyone finding out about it, either. Don't worry, I won't dig too far; you're keeping it secret for a reason, and I respect that. Sleep tight, big guy,_ he smiled and rubbed the top of Gideon's head, finally getting the chance to muss up those bangs of his. Nick's blood ran colder than it ever did that day when he felt beneath the thicker fur that made those bangs, tracing down the center of his skull and to the back of his neck, following around to the sides of Gideon's face, _These… these are scars from a muzzle…_


	14. Chapter 14

Nick sat curled against the arm of the couch, paw over his face and tail tucked around his feet as he stared at Gideon's head with the dark memories etched into its flesh. His personal experience with a muzzle was brief but it haunted him still, and he didn't have any physical scars to remember it by. _My gosh… what happened to you, Gideon? There's no way Goliath did this, you wouldn't stay in Bunnyburrow much less have his picture on your wall if he did. I know_ I _wouldn't._

 _Dawson?_ asked Nick, looking about for the hallucination, _Any thoughts? Comments? Quips? I could really use someone to talk to right now, if you're available, maybe bounce some ideas around with my trusty subconscious; that'd be great. Hello? I'll let you wear my new suit, I think I remember what it should look like. No? Fine, be that way, don't be useful._ He rolled off the fold-out bed and walked around to the kitchen table, sitting like a sack of potatoes into a sturdy chair.

"Nick?" said a soft voice, and he lifted his head from his palms to find Esther approaching the other end of the table, but in a shirt he didn't recognize. He smiled cordially and gestured to the chair opposite of him.

"Can't sleep, either?" he wagered, weaving his fingers in a bridge to rest his chin on.

"I guess I'm too tired to sleep, kind of hitting my second wind, maybe my third. Never was as deep a sleeper as my brother; always envied that about him. I see he's got your pillow in a death-grip?" she said, slipping into the offered seat with a quiet scrape of wood on tile.

"Brave little guy took one for the team," Nick replied, and then looked down at himself when he realized he only wore his scant sleeping attire, "Excuse my casual dress, I couldn't find a _thing_ to wear on such short notice."

"Nothing I haven't seen hundreds of times before," she giggled, "Pa & Giddy walked around the house in their skivvies for the longest time, especially in the summer; Ma never let me, said it wasn't 'proper for a vixen', but put a quick stop to their 'parading about' when I got older. Mothers are the weirdest things, aren't they."

"You mean to tell me that _Gideon Grey_ went about without a _shirt_?" Nick said with feigned incredulity.

"I swear on Ma's apple cobbler, it's the truth," she clapped a paw over her heart and raised the other in the air as though to take an oath, "Believe or not, he once swam, ran, & climbed without a single shirt, sometimes only his fur, but when puberty hit he got all self-conscious. It's like he's bright pink & polka-dotted under all those shirts, the way he carries on."

"So I'm not the only one to notice that," Nick remarked in amusement, "I figured it was some unsightly tattoo or birthmark, but it's all the same respectable red any fox has."

"Well, on his shoulders, sure, _I_ can see that. It's probably low on his back, if anything."

"Nope, nothing from the waist up except the desperate need for a trim," he explained, and then cringed inwardly, _I shouldn't have said that; it's bad enough Bo's got the wrong idea, I don't need Esther thinking it too. Egad, I really hope this isn't part of that newfound power, I don't need that kind of awkwardness_.

Her wide eyes and furrowed brow to study Nick from across the table, "You saw Giddy without his shirt?"

"Well, sure," he began, _As I am in it up to my neck, I'd best take great care when I open my mouth, so mentioning the shower is out,_ "Earlier today, I was helping him downstairs in the kitchen when clumsy me spilled some cooking oil; it got on our shirts, so we took them off for the wash."

"Did he take his shirt off in _front of you_?" she asked, eyes wider still.

 _This isn't going well_ , "I mean, it took some cajoling, you know, friendly ribbing, light teasing, but after some rational, logical points I convinced him that taking off his shirt wouldn't be the end of the world. Sure, his back could use a trim, like I said, but hey, he's a bachelor; he's allowed to be unkempt, right?"

"You saw his _back_ without a shirt?" her eyes nearly popped from their sockets.

 _Abort, abort!_ "Look, Essy - may I call you 'Essy'? - there's _nothing_ back there, _I_ was hardly back there, it was only a quick inspection to let him know that everything was hunky-dory, not a single thing to worry about. Peace of mind is what it was, that's all."

"You didn't _tickle_ him, did you?" she asked in a hushed, nervous tone.

 _[Expletive],_ "No no no… well, yes, but only a little and _only_ because he was about to jump out of his fur. He would've made a _thing_ about it, and then an entire day of friendship  & bonding would be _wasted_ ; simply terrible. He looked like he needed a good laugh, is all."

"I knew I heard him giggle jus' now…" Esther said, though more to herself, eyes cast to the table in introspection and cupping her mouth in a palm. Nick edged from his seat ever-so-quietly, wondering if he could make a break for the door with his suitcase before she looked up again. "You made him giggle, didn't you, jus' a few minutes ago?"

"Maybe?" grasped Nick, "Could've been gas escaping, or a dream? It might've been a dream, a _very_ happy dream."

"Or very happy gas escaping," she snapped, arms crossed over her chest and under a frown, "Nick, I'm being serious." Her expression softened to a plea, "I know I heard him laugh, something I'd never thought I'd hear again, other than his awkward or polite chuckling. Was that you?"

 _Oh, okay, there's something else going on here,_ "Alright, _alright_ , yes, that was because of me," he relented, sighing back into his chair, "He 'snuggled' me into an uncomfortable position, and I had to tickle him to let up. I tried everything else aside from hitting him, but I doubt even _that_ would work. Now," he said, folding his paws on the table and leaning forward, _Reversal time, Ms. Grey_ , "Why is him laughing such a big thing?"

She loosed a heavy sigh of her own, arms crossed on the table and hunching, head down so her bangs nearly touched the surface. "I suppose I owe you that much. We're not the only fox family in Bunnyburrow, but we were around the longest. Most others stayed near the Knottedwood, at least they did when Giddy was in grade school. Like me, he was the only fox in his class at the time, so when he got the fox-flu he was a prime target for a group of bunnies that made his life miserable. No matter what he did or how he did it, he did it wrong and they never held back in telling him so. I tried to defend him when I could, but they only came back worse when I wasn't around.

"So, Giddy went to school with a box full of tissues, and came home with a bag full of snotty paper. He could hardly breath much less play games, and he was disruptive to the teacher with his constant sniffing and nose-blowing. They held him back a year because it affected his grades so much. Giddy was strong, though, and it was never so bad that he had to stay home." She tilted her head at Nick's quirked brow, and sighed again, "When I got fox-flu, it turned into pneumonia, so I was bedridden for a month. When Giddy got it, we thought he could tough it out, like Pa said he could. I don't think Giddy would _let_ himself stay home, not when Pa said he could do it."

"Sounds like he really looked up to him."

"Oh, he _idolized_ Pa, thought he was the biggest  & the strongest in the whole world. And Pa acted accordingly, never raising his voice or a fist in anger, treating people with respect, _knowing_ that Giddy was always watching him, copying him in every way. He was a calm, stoic guy, our Pa, except when it came to carpentry and soccer. 'He worked hard, he played hard', that's what he used to say, always watched it on TV, kicked the ball around with Giddy  & me… Did you know that when Giddy was real young, he was _convinced_ the moon was a soccer ball that Pa kicked into the sky each night?"

"That's quite a lot of moons to launch into orbit," Nick said patiently.

"Well, you'd _think_ so," she giggled, "but Giddy said that Pa could reach up and pluck the moon from the sky, so he could kick it around all day. He honestly thought that's what Pa did. I think it was because he was already gone before dawn and came back after sunset."

"Getting back to the topic at hand," said Nick, leaning back in his chair and tapping his chin, "Bunny bullies make their own worst enemy by pushing young Gideon to the breaking point, and then he starts 'punching teeth in'."

"Right, right, sorry. As best I can figure, Giddy liked it or felt justified by it, either way, he was sly in his bullying, and it was never so bad that it left marks; took me weeks to even catch on to what he was doing, but I was already out of grade school by then so it wasn't necessarily on my radar," she sounded frustrated, drumming her fingers on the table, "I can't & won't excuse how he acted back then, but he wasn't always like that. Heck, Judy even tried to stand up for him when he was being picked on, but that didn't help any more than when _I_ did it; if anything it was _worse_ , because she was a bunny and smaller than him. I don't think he ever really forgave her for that."

"And then fast forward to the day he…" he began, pantomiming claws on his left cheek.

Esther nodded and took another deep breath before continuing. "I was at the Carrot Days Festival with my friends that day, when sometime in the late afternoon I heard Pa yell Giddy's name."

"You lived near the fairgrounds, huh?"

"No…" she hesitated, fingers twiddling in the manner reminiscent of Gideon, "but I'm pretty sure the whole Burrow heard it."

His chair leaned forward with a dull thunk, "You're not exaggerating."

"Pa was _real_ mad when he found out what happened to Judy," she said, "It felt like every rabbit ear was up and turned towards our house. All I wanted to do was sink down into the ground for the rest of the day, but I knew I had to go back home, too. When I got there, I saw Giddy standing at the end of the driveway as far as he could be but still see the house. I don't think I ever seen him so scared, but I was his big sister, so I marched him up to the front door to face Pa like a fox should.

"I was mad at him at the time, too, because whatever he did pulled me away from my friends, and I felt humiliated by hearin' his name shouted across sky," her finger tapped at the table thoughtfully, "Anyway, we finally made it inside, and there were these older rabbits sittin' in Pa's chair, all nice & neat in a row, drinkin' tea from Ma's best cups. They were a very dignified sort, but I ain't ever seen 'em before. They said they had discussin' to do about Giddy and all his bullyin'. So, Pa told me to go 'play outside' like I was some _kit_ , and Ma protested, too, but when Pa's serious, he's _real_ serious."

"It sounds like this whole situation was quite 'serious'."

"No doubt about that, Nick," she continued with a calming huff, "So, I went and sat at the yard's fence, straining to hear anything I could."

"To no avail."

"I couldn't even tell you what those old rabbits sounded like. It felt like _hours_ , Nick, some of the longest of my life; but those long-eared geezers finally walked out, so I ran in as quick as I could. Everyone was sad, because Giddy was getting sent to some kind of 'therapy' early the next morning. I can't deny, those three weeks mellowed him out considerably, but that was when he got so bashful about himself, about everything. And bless his heart, he _tried_ to hide his stuttering, but it's like he came back a different fox; I only wish I knew what they did to him."

 _I think I have an idea_ , Nick realized, and it churned his stomach, "He hasn't laughed since?"

"No," she lamented, "not really, anyway. They always seem scared, or hollow. Like he _has_ to laugh, not because he _wants_ to. He didn't hurt anyone after that, it's true, but he didn't _do_ much of anything. Wouldn't run around, wouldn't kick a ball; whatever few friends he still had kind of drifted away… it broke Pa's heart awful bad."

"And then 'Ma' came in and showed him the joys of baking."

"That she did, Blue, and Giddy took to it like a fish to water. Ma said he was still holding onto some aggression, and baking was an outlet for it; she had it in her mind that the 'therapy' only got him to bottle it in, rather than actually _dealing_ with it. As it turns out, she found little specks of blood in his sheets, on account he scratched himself at night." She sighed with guilt and leaned her head back, before looking forward, "I'm sorry I lied to you, Nick; I know why he's nervous about his back. It's covered in claw marks, no denying, same as his arms. But it's Giddy's secret, and I as his big sister can't go blabbin' about it."

' _Blue'? Oh, hah, police officer, funny,_ "I couldn't help but notice them, squeezed to him like I was, but didn't it occur to me what they were at first, so there's no harm in clarifying." _She doesn't need my input on this right now, it'd keep her up all night; it'll probably might keep_ me _up all night._

"Thanks for understanding," she smiled sadly, "I figured you already knew if you saw his back."

"So that bit about being a 'snuggler' was…?"

"I only make light of it because I haven't smelled blood on him in years, so there wasn't any harm in that either, right?" she pointed out.

"Aside from my rib-cage, no harm at all," he mused.

"Big, tough cop like you can handle a few bruised ribs," she teased.

"We big, tough cops still need our pillows, though. You wouldn't happen to have a spare, would you?"

"Oh, sure, Giddy's bed is covered in 'em," she said, getting up from the table to glide across the floor and into the bedroom. Nick took the moment to stand as well, running his claws through the fur on his own head.

' _Therapy', huh? I'd bet my tail that wasn't a child therapist he saw,_ he pondered, and then grinned politely as Esther returned in the doorway, tossing him a pillow.

"Here you go, the least lumpy of them all. Sleep tight," she said, and shut the door.

With the cranial cushioning tucked under his arm, Nick returned to his side of the fold-out bed, and after some degree of fluffing, it made a respectable pillow. His ear flicked to a soft whimpering beside him, _Still haunted by it, huh?_ considered Nick, _Well, 'predator therapy' was abolished years ago, they can't hurt you again._

"I'm sorry..." came a weak whine.

Nick frowned and reached over to brace Gideon's shoulder, visibly relaxing the stouter fox, _Don't worry, Bangs, I got your back._


	15. Chapter 15

Nick stirred to a wonderful smell, rising as it filled his nostrils, ears flicking to the sound of sizzle in a skillet. He promptly tugged up his pants from beside the couch and slipped on a shirt to wander towards the allure of new breakfast. Inside the kitchen, as Nick suspected, Gideon was at the stove, and with a masterful flick of his wrist flipped a pancake.

"Esther's not up yet?" asked the taller fox.

"No, not as such," the stouter fox replied, looking over his shoulder, "That vixen can sleep for hours on end if she wanted to; I always envied that about her."

"You sleep like a rock, Bangs, I had my bagpipes going last night and everything."

"Yeah, sure," Gideon laughed, "When I'm out, I'm out, but once I'm up, I'm up. Even as a kit, sleeping in was a foreign concept to me."

"You know, I can't help but notice these odd, round waffles, all _cake_ -like and in a _pan…_ "

"If you want waffles, Stretch, I'll make them, but you're cleaning the waffle iron."

"...I should try some, make sure they're not poisoned; consider it a civic duty on my part," offered Nick.

"I figured I'd make some since you didn't have any at the Hopps' place; all pumpkin-spiced and everything."

"I _did_ have coffee while I was over there, though."

"There's only tea here," Gideon said, and then reaching into the overhead cabinet to pull out a box, "This is black tea, should be enough caffeine to get you through breakfast."

"No coffee…" scoffed Nick, begrudgingly accepting the box and studying it with some degree of derision, "It's a good thing I'm not moving in."

"There's always breakfast with the bunnies, they _love_ their coffee."

"That doesn't surprise me," he muttered, glancing up at the cabinet once more and spotting a different box, "Oh, Trill Grey, Mom buys that in bulk. Excuse me…" Though it would've been easy to reach over with his height, Nick made it a point to lean on Gideon while exchanging the two boxes of tea.

"Stretch, unless you want a spatula-shaped bruise, I suggest you give me my personal space."

"Aww, but we were all snuggly-wuggly last night…" teased Nick, immediately leaping back as a wooden spoon swung at his torso, "Assault of an officer, that was attempted assault!"

"You're off duty, Blue, and out of your jurisdiction," Esther said, snatching the box of tea from an unaware Nick's paw.

"You do have a habit of sneaking up, don't you?" he frowned, arms crossed.

"Nick's being a _jerk_ ," claimed Gideon, pointing his wooden spoon at Nick.

"Gideon's being a _wuss_ ," claimed Nick, sneering at Gideon.

"And I'm being neither of your mothers," she said, setting the box of tea down on the counter to gracefully reach around her brother for the kettle on the stove, bringing it over to the sink to fill.

"Suck the fun right out of it, why don't you," Nick huffed, reaching into the fridge for the breakfast spreads.

"Had a good spat going and everything," Gideon complained, returning to the pancakes.

"Tea first, then _spat_ all you like," she said, watching the kettle fill, still waking up as her bangs and fur skewed in the weirdest directions.

Nick pulled out the container of poisonous whipped cream, showed it to Gideon with a tap of the lid, and then arched his eyebrows questioningly towards Esther. Gideon frowned at it, but answered with a shake of his head. Nick nodded in agreement and returned the offending tub to its hiding place, taking effort to pull other items in front. _Hopefully we won't need to bring her in on this._

With a back burner lit beneath the tea kettle, Esther sat into a chair and rest her weary head onto bracing palms. Nick leaned in from an adjacent chair and said discretely, "If I took a picture of you right now, and posted it on FuzzBook, would you sue me?"

"You, the phone manufacturer, the store you bought it from, and the programmer of the camera app," she replied, before yawning and smoothing her bangs back, transitioning with a single fluid motion to stretch her arms over her head.

"If I took a _video_ of that, but kept it for myself, would you sue me?"

"No, I really couldn't, but I _would_ send Pa after you."

"Point made," said Nick.

"Tell him about the 'Summer of Suitors'," grinned Gideon.

"No, Giddy, I _won't_ tell him about that," groaned Esther.

"Good, because my version is _way_ funnier-"

"I was well into my teenage years at the time," she cut off, "A 'kit blossoming into vixenhood', as Ma would say. Some other fox families had already moved closer to Bunnyburrow by that time, so, it didn't take long for their sons to catch sight of me. It seemed every other day that Pa was scaring off some boy or another. He put heavy-duty shutters on my window, and Ma made me wear these old-timey dresses; it felt like I was locked up for being pretty."

"It's because her long legs and bangs made Essy 'exotic'. I actually got some of those other foxes to do favors for me if I 'promised to put in a good word'," grinned Gideon, piling the last of the pancakes onto a plate and setting upon the table. "C'mon, Stretch, forks and dishes."

"You said _dinner_ wasn't for spectators," griped Nick, but set the table willingly.

"It's because all the young fox boys were walking sacks of hormones," scoffed Essy, and stood to prepare the tea, "Anyway, it got so bad that around summer, when it was too hot to wear those stuffy dresses, Pa put out a challenge to all the boys chasing me that the first to guess my middle name won. It was romantic, very storybook."

"I get the sneaky suspicion he knew no one would guess it," smirked Nick, taking his seat again as Esther set out the cups of steeping tea, _Ahh, like Mom used to make_ , he mused.

"And no one _ever_ did," she began, "As far as middle names go-"

"Well now, hold up, maybe Stretch here would like to hazard a guess," the stouter fox dared in a grin.

"Oh, come on, Giddy, that was _years_ ago, and it's such a-" she began again.

"I accept your challenge," the taller fox answered in a dramatic tone, cutting into his syrup-doused pancake, "Now then, what are the _rules_ of this game?"

"You two, I swear," she scoffed again.

"You get one guess and no hints. Win, and you get to court Essy, otherwise accept your loss like a fox and stop chasing her," Gideon explained with a smirk, "Used to be that you'd meet with Pa & Essy alone, say the name, and he'd give the nod or not. Circumstances as they are, _I_ 'll be Pa's stand-in."

"I would say this is why I haven't found anyone, but it's really because I've been so wrapped up in school & work all these years," Esther assured, taking up bites of her buttery pancakes while trying to ignore the males at the table, "That whole challenge thing ended _years_ ago, like I said."

"Then it's good, honest fun, and I do enjoy good, honest fun," smirked Nick, "However, I am already in violation of the second rule, since I have plenty of hints: firstly, I know it's not a common name, since anyone could guess in that time and Goliath seemed _very_ sure no one ever, _ever_ would. Secondly, I can assume your middle name was never leaked to any potential suitors, ergo, _you_ never told it to anyone, perhaps because it's also an _odd_ name and what kit wants to share an _odd_ name? Thirdly, I happen to know it begins with the letter 'L', because I saw your signature on precinct paperwork. Of course, this all points to-"

"This has to be _the_ longest he's gone without eating when near food," Gideon told Esther.

Nick glared for a long moment at that smug, smirking face, and then shoved a particularly large chunk of pancake into his mouth; using his fork to work the it all in, bit-by-bit, before gulping it down, all the while locking eyes with the other male fox. Not to be outdone, Gideon cut a larger piece of pancake to face the unspoken challenge (parallel to the _spoken_ challenge), and stuffed it through his jaw. Back  & forth it went, Esther stifling snickers during it all, especially when Nick chomped with exaggeration, though perhaps because it also kept the conversation derailed.

They heaved and coughed a bit, nearly choking on their individual attempts to down a whole pancake, when Esther finally stopped laughing, "I don't know what to do with you two," she sighed, raising her tea to her lips, "at least I could beat off those tail-chasers with a stick."

"Oh yes, about that," Nick managed after wiping syrup from his mouth, her eyes rolling as she sipped, "I was about to say that it's, luckily... " he began, about to further explain how he'd narrow down the possibilities of a name that was not _actually_ a name. He stopped short to the clatter of a fork as both Greys stared at Nick; Gideon was caught in the middle of chewing and Esther spat back her tea into the cup. The former Grey's paws suddenly slammed into the table as he rocketed up, standing and grinning as bits of pancake fell down his chin.

"Pa's gonna _flip_!" he cheered at Esther.

"That _doesn't_ count!" she pled at Gideon, mug banging the table as her ears glowed brilliant scarlet.

 _I guessed it without even guessing it,_ Nick realized, sighing inwardly to a sip of tea, _Solving a mystery without the fun of a challenge..._

Gideon whooped, paws at his hips as he beamed at the taller fox, "Not in a hundred years was _anyone_ gonna guess that name, and then here you come in from outta _no_ where, and like _that_!" and snapped his fingers.

"Maybe he'd like to hear _your_ middle name, Gideon-" she threatened, now at full height.

"Don't you dare, that ain't got _no_ part in this!"

"Guys!" yelled Nick, the two Greys staring each other down before looking at the Wilde. He rubbed his temples before making a steeple out of his fingers, "Your middle name is 'Luckily'?" he asked after a deep breath.

"Yeah, it is. Esther _Luckily_ Grey, but I shortened it to 'Lee' for a long time, truth be told," she sighed in defeat, and a realization dawned on her, scarlet returning to her ears while sitting, "I guess he figured it'd bring me good luck."

"Well," Nick began, putting up his calmest front, "that challenge ended years ago, like you said. You are an adult, after all, so you can make your own choices in love."

"Pa's still gonna flip," snickered Gideon.

"Shut _up_ , Giddy!"


	16. Chapter 16

After breakfast came cleanup, and the table was cleared before Gideon offered the bathroom to Esther. "She looks like she needs some time to soak her head," he whispered. Nick wasn't about to argue.

"So, we might be not only cousins, but brothers-in-law, too, soon enough," the taller fox thought aloud, rinsing off & drying scrubbed plates for the dish rack.

"You have a real habit of hitching up with foxes you just met, Stretch," smirked Gideon.

"What can I say, I go where the the wind takes me."

"Did you _really_ guess her middle name, or did you know it beforehand and decided to be all smart about it?" he asked.

"Less 'guessed it', more 'tripped over it'," Nick answered, "I knew Esther had her middle name as 'Lee', I heard it said before, but it wasn't until a few minutes ago that I realized it was short for a non-name name. If I can be honest here, my first guess was 'Lovely', or some other positive adverb that begins with 'L'; maybe 'Lady', farther down the list."

"And you happen to blurt out 'Luckily'?" asked a skeptic Gideon.

"That wasn't very high on the list," he explained, "Middle names either honor a family member or convey a meaning, like a virtue, and 'luck' as a virtue is more a rabbit or horse kind of thing."

" _You_ mention 'luck' often enough."

"Ironically, Bangs," he smirked, "You never know when a bunny's listening, after all."

"Well, 'luck' or whatever, you guessed her name, so you get first shot at courtin' Essy," Gideon teased, "But if I find out you used dirty dealings to take _advantage_ , Mr. Wilde, then Pa & me will have some choice things to say on the matter."

"My underhandedness is for police work _only_ , not for personal gain," grinned the taller fox, to which Gideon grunted a quiet tone of continued skepticism, "Tangentially, I _might've_ heard you two talking last night, so there's that…"

"Eavesdropping, Stretch?"

"Well, hardly an eaves to drop in the living room, but yes," he glanced at Gideon's continued skepticism, and rolled his shoulders in an awkward shrug, "Okay, I'm sorry I intruded on your private conversation."

"Nah, I figured you were there, I just wanted to see you squirm," he chuckled, bumping his elbow into the taller fox, "Something I learned from Pa, always behave like someone's watching or listening; keeps ya' sharp, honest, and good-natured."

"Oh, 'good-natured', I see, like making someone _squirm_ for the fun of it?" teased Nick.

"Well, I mean, that was-" Gideon trailed off, staring at Nick with a abrupt chuckle, "You're right, I'm sorry."

 _She's right, that wasn't a very happy chuckle at all,_ "Sorry for _what_ , exactly-?" he asked with an endearing scoff and a bumping elbow.

"For being a-," he lingered, and then quickly answered, "major _jerk_..." He looked like he was scrubbing his own paws along with the pan.

 _No, not good, very not good,_ "Hey, c'mon, we're all jerks now and again-"

"I have a lot of _self-doubt_ ," he recited, eyes staring off into the distance yet down into the sink, scrubbing harder and harder, "and it manifests itself in the form of unchecked _rage_ and _aggression_ -"

 _Stop complicating my life!_ Nick begged, grabbing the panhandle to yank it from Gideon's clutches, and with every ounce of false calm blurted out, "You know, my middle name's really weird, too."

He blinked from his fugue, "Must be a fox thing, or something," he said, picking up a mug to scrub, as though he didn't miss a beat, "You're awful tense, Stretch; you okay?"

"Yeah! Yeah, I'm fine, no worries," he breathed, drying off the dish with a relieved smile, "It's my grandfather's name, I think, something old-timey. My Dad hated it, but Mom insisted."

"I know how that is," came another chuckle, a hearty guffaw if ever there was one, "I got Grampub's name, too. According to Ma, he was an admiral, sailed in refugees from some war on the other side of the continent before retiring to Knottedwood."

"How very noble, " Nick scoffed with playfulness, "Mine, I'm proud to say, was a privateer captain, smuggling slaves to freedom right under the nose of a tyrannical government."

"Well, I _guess_ that's pretty cool," Gideon scoffed right back, playful still, "I'd bet my Grampub could whip your pirate granddaddy on the open seas any day of the week."

"Of course an _admiral_ would have the upper-hand out in the open, Bangs, a _privateer_ uses the shallows to their advantage," he explained, handing Gideon the towel to dry off his arms after he emptied the sink, "Either way, _if_ our grandads were around at the same time, they _must've_ crossed paths - or swords - at one point or another," he thought aloud, "I can't imagine an admiral and a privateer captain seeing eye-to-eye on many things."

"You ever meet your grandfather, Stretch?"

"No, not I," said Nick with a shrug, "but correct me if I'm wrong, _you_ still visit 'Grampub', at least on a semi-regular basis?"

"If I did, it was earlier in my life than I'd remember," he admitted, "The Knottedwood ain't exactly nearby, ya'know, and _nothing_ works over there, not even something like my my van. It's like going back in time, or something."

"Yes, I'm aware," smirked the taller fox, "Something about the trees that messes up technology, if you can believe it. I read about it one time and it sounded like something out of science fiction; I, as a _practical_ fox, leave its 'iron-root trees' on the border of Zootopia."

"I grew up on those stories, about foxes who lived in the winding trunks of Knottedwood, where 'if you didn't come from there, you didn't belong there'."

"That always came across as xenophobic to me."

"I dunno, Stretch, Ma always made it sound like the foxes there had a _connection_ with the trees, like they were the only ones who could live in it without getting lost."

"No kidding. A place that makes compasses and GPS signals go haywire, navigating the it must be part of their oral history," Nick wondered, "Did you hear about that squirrel housing development that tried to get into Knottedwood? They had all the paperwork signed, dotted 'i's & crossed 't's, machinery and construction workers at the ready to start building. All they needed was the okay from the locals, and you know what they said?"

"Of course I know," grinned Gideon, "They said, 'If you can make it into Knottedwood, you're welcome to start building'."

"I think it was more along the lines of 'Go ahead and try' with some colorful language thrown in, but yes, that's the gist of it. After nearly 3 months, the squirrel developers couldn't get their construction teams past the tree line because _everything_ failed to work as soon as it got near the forest. Helicopters couldn't find landing spots because the canopy covered _every_ thing, and even blocked radar or infrared. Like I said, unbelievable."

"Yeah, and there's a river that runs out of Knottedwood into the ocean, I hear it comes from a _huge_ underground spring, but most ships can't go up it because of the delta. All except Grampub, of course, it's said he's the only one who did it."

"It's really a wonder that in this modern age, there's an isolated microcosm _so close_ to Zootopia."

"Heck, even the hare and coyote places have websites, and they're not much further out than the foxes," Gideon said, walking towards his bedroom, "It sounds like Essy's drying her fur, and I wanna change before she finishes."

"Did you want the bathroom after her, then?"

"Only for a quick brush, I washed up yesterday so I should be fine for today."

"You sure? All that running around in the dirt from last night?" smirked Nick.

"I'm a farm fox, Stretch, you ain't even _seen_ my 'dirt', yet."

In the living room, Nick folded the bed in and replaced the cushions so he could kick up his feet. The sounds of civil exchange between the Grey siblings flicked his ear, and he pulled out his phone to look up the Woolipedia page on "Admiral Grey". He was redirected to "Admiral Greyside", a rhinoceros from the Royal Navy of two-hundred years ago, _I sincerely doubt this is Gideon's 'Grampub',_ Nick pondered, _Maybe it's on his mother's side._ Changing out "Grey" for "Savage", the search redirected him to "Captain Piberius Savage".

He was a pirate, traitor, thief, slaver, and murderer, a credit to his species and family name of 'savage'-ry as a scourge to sailing ships. In his final act of depravity, he kidnapped the entire populace of a village and disappeared a hundred years ago. Nick truly wished he could be surprised by the article, but was unimpressed at its slander, _I suppose it would be 'libel', since it's a published work._ Something that caught his notice, however, was the note directly beneath the title: "(Redirected from Admiral Piberius Savage)".

"Okay, Stretch, tub's all yours," chimed Gideon, walking out from the door leading to the living room, causing Nick to hold the phone down on his chest. The stouter fox's fur looked kempt, and his fresh clothes were certainly presentable, much more than Nick saw from him all weekend.

"Well, aren't you a catch," he said with a smirk, rolling to his feet, "Who're we trying to impress today?"

" _I_ need to get my booth set up, so that means meeting with the 'Faire Coordinators' and finishing up registration. You're welcome to come along, of course."

"I'd be lying if I said it sounded the least bit interesting."

"I'm certainly not looking forward to it," sighed Gideon, "How about you spend the day with Esther, maybe bring along Judy & Bo, too? Get a chance to see more of Bunnyburrow than my li'l bakery."

"Some of my most cherished memories of Bunnyburrow are in that kitchen, though," swooned Nick, "The waffles, the stir fry, the peach pie, the pancakes… I can't wait to see what's for dinner."

"Get yer tail in there and wash up," Gideon grunted, backhanding Nick's shoulder as he walked by, "If _I_ gotta look nice, so do _you_."

"But I'm not even _going_ to the registration," whined Nick.

"Brat."

"Prude."

"Are you sure you two weren't split at birth?" came Esther's disembodied voice.

 _Well, we're most definitely cousins, if_ _Woolipedia_ _is believed,_ Nick pondered, once more by himself inside the bathroom. He discarded yesterday's clothes and climbed into the tub, sitting on the provided stool to gnaw on his most recent findings. ' _Admiral Piberius Savage',_ he thought, reaching for the low shower head and turning on the hot water, "Don't wait up for me, Bangs," he called through the door.

"Okay!" came the response.

 _That should give me some time to myself. And Dawson, so help me, if I see you I will ram my head into the wall until you disappear._ After a moment of silence and zero hallucinations, all the while getting his fur dowsed, Nick turned off the water and holstered the shower head. _Let's see…_ he reached over for what looked like Gideon's two-in-one shampoo/conditioner, and flicked the cap for a sniff, _Cheap stuff, but it'll do_ , and squirted some out to work it into a lather.

Nick savored the solitude, joined only by a gentle drip from the shower-head as he closed his eyes and lathered his head. _So Gideon & I are cousins. I'd be an idiot to dismiss the coincidence of not only one, but two sets of identical names, "Jackie Savage" & "Piberius Savage". I would need confirmation, of course, but having family in the area might prove useful; _having _family is nice too._ Shaking suds from his paws, Nick groped around for the shower-head and knob. _As if I need any more mysteries to worry about, but at least this is more a curiosity and doesn't have thousands of lives riding on it._

He thought back to the imagined conversation of the previous night while rinsing himself off. ' _It hasn't reached the thinking part of my brain, yet', huh? I wonder if this is what Basil deals with when_ he _reaches his brilliant deductions. At least my subconscious was nice enough to show up a little more… well, I'm glad_ she _isn't my cousin._ Nick turned off the water and glanced up at his purple shirt, hanging nearby. He smirked and stood, reaching for a towel to dry off.


	17. Chapter 17

Nick hadn't the pleasure to utilize a private fur-dryer in a long, long time. Either he was a kit, and Mom dried him off, or he had to share with Finnick, or it was one of those high-powered blow dryer stalls in the precinct locker room that, if he jumped, could hover in the air a few good seconds. So, understandably, he took his time and savored the experience, already daydreaming about a personal bathroom that didn't smell like Gideon. Understandability continued, Nick's fur puffed out in ludicrous ways and he laughed for some minutes at the reflection, chuckling all the while he brushed himself into civility.

 _Back to business_ , the freshly groomed fox resolved, reaching up to tug his shirt from the bathroom shelf, only to find that the hanger was turned about the wrong way from two nights prior. _What have we here?_ he wondered while unhooking his new garment, rather certain that wasn't its initial position. Nick took the time to analyze it, sniff it, and employ all manner of police training he could muster for so specific a circumstance, _I daresay Esther didn't_ wear _it, exactly, but had this shirt against her in some way,_ thinking about how one might lay clothes along their body in front of a mirror to see how it looked on them.

A simply naughty grin spread from ear-to-ear as he removed the wire implement and slipped his arms through the long sleeves, which he rolled up to the elbow. Additionally, he pulled out the tie and slacks which he also got from his father and donned them in his familiar, devil-may-care fashion. Nick gave his suave reflection a double shot of fingerguns.

"Still here, Esther?" he asked, stepping out from the bathroom and into the living room. She glanced up from the couch, legs folded beneath her while wearing overalls cuffed up to the knee and, what Nick could only assume was, one of Gideon's shirts tied at her stomach. _Game on, Ms. Grey._

"Took you long enough," she said not unkindly, stretching out her legs before standing up and tucking her phone into a back pocket, "Private bathroom bit of a shock for you?"

"15 years bathing in a gas station sink does that to a guy," he replied, and leaned in to scrutinize her outfit, "What are we going for here, 'blind grab at the thrift store clothes rack'?"

"My shampoo exploded in the suitcase, so I picked out what best fit me from Giddy's closet. Pretty sure he's never worn these, and they cinch in well enough," she explained, reaching into a front pocket and pulling out a key, "Brother dearest agreed to lend me his spare key to our childhood home, that way I can find something a bit more… me. You're welcome to join, Blue, I wouldn't mind a police escort."

"Far be it for me to dismiss a citizen in distress," he said, "However, it _does_ bring up the question how _you_ got caught without accommodations."

"Does it?" she said, stooping to hoist her suitcase, the tied-off mouth of a trash bag jutting from a corner, "I thought I was rather clear about the missed train and lost hotel reservation; I still have pictures of those 'no foxes' signs I spoke about, in case you need something more concrete than my word of honor."

"I have no doubt about all that, Esther," Nick continued, turning on a heel into the bathroom and speaking through the open door. Esther stepped closer and leaned in to garner a peek at his activity, "I'm talking about what happened _before_ hand, when you decided not to house-sit for your folks while they were out of town. Gideon would have if he could, but he had business of his own in the TBR, and perhaps couldn't spare the time. _You_ certainly would have, as I suspect you wanted to, if you weren't already predisposed back in the city. If you _did_ plan to come here during this time, you would know better than to try for a hotel with all of these visiting bunnies." With his suitcase in hand, he returned to the living room, "So, _why_ come last minute? What could _possibly_ cause you to run out, early Saturday morning, hop a train and ride 211 miles into a scheduled infestation of rabbit relatives?"

"Sounds like you've got it all figured out," she grinned.

"Simply put, new information from no earlier than _Thursday_ changed your plans, info about a certain visitor to Bunnyburrow," he smirked, "You came for _me_."

"Did I?" she asked, turning towards the door with a flick of her bangs, "That's some lovely circumstantial evidence, Mr. Wilde. What if, like you said, I _did_ have plans for this weekend but at the last minute, they fell through? Maybe there was a reason I didn't want to stay in the city during this time. Personal drama, perhaps? Maybe I _knew_ my brother had a spare key to the house and I could, posthumously, house-sit in this time to surprise my folks when they get back. Would earn me some brownie points, don't you think? You saw my state yesterday, I was upheaved in the worst way; certainly _looks_ like things didn't go at all according to plan. All-in-all, I'd say your deductions are a bit lacking, junior detective."

"While those shadows-of-a-doubt might work on a jury of my peers, as an officer of the law I base conclusions on hard evidence," he said, following out the door as she pulled and locked it shut, soon descending the wooden stairs into the empty lot. "For example, I know the hotels in Bunnyburrow will _not_ give away reserved hotel rooms so long as you call at least an hour beforehand to inform them of your tardiness, and the fastest train from the city is an hour-and-a-half; therefore, if you _did_ miss your initial train, you could still call the hotel and let them know that you'll be in later than expected. On the other hand, I sincerely believe you weren't expecting me in Gideon's apartment last night, because _I_ sincerely didn't know I'd be rooming with him until arriving in Bunnyburrow."

"Such wishful thinking, convinced this all revolves around _you_ ," she scoffed with playful smugness, leading the way to, and then along, the fenced treeline, "I could make a similar claim about _your_ intent, concerning me; case-in-point, why not leave your luggage at Giddy's? You certainly like his cooking well enough."

"Now, see, when I make a deduction, an explanation follows," instructed Nick, "I didn't even know you were in this weekend, so I wouldn't come on the off chance you decided to visit."

"Oh, Blue, Blue Blue Blue," she tsked, turning on a heel to walk backwards and speak very matter-of-factly, "You came for Judy, of course, I make no claim otherwise. You likely didn't know about her & Bo until recently, I can tell as much from her Fuzzbook photos; and then when you finally found out about him, you _jumped_ at the chance to size him up, face-to-face." She turned about again with a sweep of her tail, "It's very sweet of you, looking out for her like that."

Nick frowned in defeat, so sure he'd masked his momentary jealous flare against Judy's boyfriend with the utmost caution; yet she saw through it, all while turning his own line of questioning back on him. _I could drop that bombshell about her little 'crush' on me,_ _but that would be impolite. Besides, she sways when she's happy, and I'm happy when she sways, so it's a win-win. The first round is yours, Ms. Grey, but I'm not so easily outfoxed._ "As an aside, I couldn't help but notice we're not taking public transit. Are we close by?"

"Only if we walk through these woods that, also as an aside, we are walking around."

"Ah ha, I see."

The morning crept for the next few seconds as they trekked along the fence, Esther sparing expectant glances at Nick, but he was observing the trees with an occasional curious grunt.

"The iron-root trees, in case you wondered," she finally caved, "are gradually spreading from the Knottedwood. No faster than the creep of tectonic plates, though."

"I hear those get violent when they move enough," he commented.

"Except this 'tremor' is making the woods here less friendly to the likes of electronics. So, us being city-foxes, we're protecting our precious cell phones from its prolonged presence," Esther explained, "At our pace, we should be at Preds' Corner in a few hours."

"Pardon me while my fur stands on end," he grimaced.

"They don't train for long hikes in the ZPD?" she smirked back.

"We have vehicles in the city, but that's not my major issue, nor is the idea that 'iron-root trees' are 'spreading'," he said, "What's this about a 'Preds Corner'?"

"Oh, that, yes," Esther said, "You see, _officially_ it's 'The Brambles', something of a township off Bunnyburrow proper. We all know it as Preds' Corner, because it's where we preds set up homes  & shops."

"...I see."

"It's not like a ghetto or shanty town, if that's what you're thinking," Esther hastily assured, "On the contrary, the place is actually a bustling little slice o' heaven. It's got prey there, too, but mostly preds. It's where a lot of the fox families are."

"No doubt a ghost town with the TBR swooping in."

"Shouldn't be," she speculated, "I heard about a few other families going on vacation, it's the thing to do, but I find it hard to believe they _all_ would."

"One more question: why isn't our dear Gideon's bakery in Preds Corner?"

"Oh," she beamed, "that's because Stu & Bonnie got him a good deal on a shop a little closer to town."

" _That_ raised a few ears," he smirked.

"I _wish_ I could've been there when he moved in," she said with no attempt at hiding her glee, "According to Giddy, he was watched for _days_ , and the neighboring shops kept calling Sheriff Longmare about 'suspicious activity'; it got to the point that Rachel looked forward to those calls so she could visit his bakery."

"Sheriff _Rachel_ Longmare?"

"Do you know her?"

"By name only," Nick smirked, "but from the sounds of it, _you'_ re on a first name basis with the local authority; always handy."

"You betcha; we're 'bangs-sisters'," Esther laughed, tucking one behind her ear only for it to fall around her face again, "We have our 'mane therapy' every season, just the two of us. We tried to get Judy in on it one time, bless her heart, but it doesn't work the same with ears."

"I can see why Carrots never told me about Bunnyburrow, this place is rife with stories about her. I have enough material to last me for _weeks_ and I've only been here two days."

"It's what they say about hometowns; you're a hero everywhere except where you're from."

"And where are _you_ from, Ms. Grey, if it's not too sensitive a subject?" asked Nick, "I've seen a grand total of _three_ foxes with bangs like yours, and they're all from the same family."

"I don't mind," she smirked, "I'm sure with all your powers of induction and the wealth of information from Giddy, you've already pieced me together well enough, so I'll fill in the gaps for you. Pa's from down south - 'as far south as south can get', he'd say - came wandering up into Knottedwood, half-dead and cradling baby me like a potato. Ma found him, nursed us both back to health, and before too long they mated up. There was the issue that _he_ was already mated, of course, carrying around a kit and all. According to Pa, they were welcome to stay, but Ma..."

"Ruth's a very _traditional_ fox?"

"A 'proper vixen', as she likes to put it," and rolled her eyes with an amused grin, "thefact of the matter is, foxes don't live in forests too much down south, that's why they got these things," and flicked one of her bangs, "So, they set out for Bunnyburrow with me and Uncle Jacky, and lived here ever since."

"Hold, hold," Nick said, and they both stopped walking, " _Uncle_ Jackie?"

"Well, yeah?" Esther asked in bemusement, "He helped out while Pa was building their house, and... well, I guess he kinda left before I was old enough to remember him, but I always knew him as 'Uncle Jacky'."

"Okay, I guess it's time for this conversation," Nick began, setting down his suitcase as he hopped onto the nearby fence to sit.

"Now that I think about it," Esther kept along her own train of thought, but followed suit to sit on the fence, "Ma's never said one way or the other except 'That Jacky Savage!' in her proper tone, when she got _really_ angry; it was something of a touchy subject."

"Right, so," Nick continued, "we, Gideon & I, found out yesterday that our mothers have the same maiden name of 'Savage'-"

"Oh my gosh!" Esther burst, eyes lighting up in cascading realization as she faced him, "Are you Giddy's cousin?"

"Y-Yes," stammered a bewildered Nick, "I'm pretty sure-"

"Ma used to say Jacky was 'lost to some-"

" _Wilde_ fox in the city', yes, I know," Nick said, trying to re-establish the gravity of the situation, "and I thought that referenced my dad, John Wilde-"

"Of course, your mom is _Jackie_ Wilde!" she burst again, cupping her cheeks, "Oh my gosh, how did I not _see_ that? That makes so much more sense now. I mean, I _knew_ who your Mom was, but I was so convinced I had an _Uncle_ Jacky, that it never occurred to me to look for a 'Jackie _Wilde_ '-"

"Ahh, yes, of course," Nick relinquished, "both you & Mom follow Judy's FuzzBook."

"-I looked for Jacky, Jack, John, Johnny, even Nathan or Nate; all iterations of 'Jonathan Savage'," she then gasped louder and clapped both paws over her mouth, "I can't _believe_ I came across a 'Jacqueline Savage' in Zootopia's mateship records and I _dismissed_ it!" she groaned in her personal frustration, "Oh my goodness, if I were my boss I'd fire me on the spot."

"There there, Esther, you were only biased by past experiences that clouded your judgment," Nick consoled, reaching over to pat her back to receive a quick elbow in the ribs. "Eloquent rebuttal," he wheezed, gripping his side and bracing the fence post; while he _could_ nurse another Grey-related injury to his rib-cage and retain his balance, he promptly fell back from a gentle lick on his cheek.

"Truly, Blue," she giggled, pivoting on the fence with a swing of her legs, and leaning forward on her knees to address the fox sprawled in downy grass, "I can't thank you enough for pointing me to my Unc-... well, I guess it's _Aunt_ Jackie, now. I gave up hope of _ever_ finding him, I mean, _her_ ," she became solemn, if but a moment, "I also thought I'd _never_ hear Giddy laughing again, for that matter. Yet here you ride in, out of the blue, bringing _both_ like it's just another day being Nick Wilde."

"Zootopia's Finest, ma'am, always here to help," he grinned, standing up on the other side of the fence and holding out his paw in a chivalrous gesture.

"And such a gentlefox," she cooed, accepting his gesture to dismount. "We can actually cut through the forest here; it's a narrower part and should shave some time off the trip."

"In that case, lead the way," Nick insisted, reaching over the fence to retrieve their suitcases, "Now, I don't mean to open old wounds, but you wouldn't happen to know what happened between Ruth & Jackie? Surely _Goliath_ would've said something."

"Pa didn't say much," admitted Esther, receiving her luggage and heading towards the trees, "Not only was he respecting Ma's wishes not speaking of it, but _he_ was so mad at Aunt Jackie, he'd clam up and fume as soon as hear mention her. It took me a while, but I puzzled out that when Pa finished the house, Jackie went off to Zootopia on the promise to stay in touch. I figure she must've gotten there and written or called up to a point, otherwise they wouldn't be so mad that she up  & vanished."

"Quite so; they'd be _sad_ if she disappeared without a trace, or died," he reasoned, "So how did _you_ manage to stay away from home for so long?"

"When I first got to the big city, I had to call Ma & Pa every night, or else 'come right home'. It actually helped me get through the first year, but I'll never tell _them_ that," she grinned at an inward satisfaction, but only for a fleeting moment, "What gets me is, knowing that Aunt Jackie's been _alive_ all this time, why didn't she reach out? It can't be too hard to find Ma's contact info, it's not like her name changed, heck, she hasn't even moved in three decades."

"Well…" Nick said soberly, "I guess it runs in the family."

"What d'you mean by that?"

"I…" he sighed, "I lost touch with my parents throughout my adult life. It was only this past Friday that we finally got back together."

"Why'd it take so long?" she asked in sympathy.

"Not sure," he shrugged, "I guess after all that happened we couldn't face each other, and when we finally came around, years already went by. Mom probably feels the same way; maybe she's scared to face Ruth after what happened between _them_."

"Yeah, but they're _sisters_ , they'll forgive each other, and Ma's fast to forgive," Esther said, and then added ruefully, "she also don't like her trust broken. Well, looks like we should get our mothers face-to-face and made up, 'eh Blue?"

"Sounds like quite a feat. Think they'll be too tired from their cruise for a trip to the city?"

"I suppose the real question is do we spring this on them, or set it up with full disclosure?"

"That's an _excellent_ question, Cherries, one we'll actually need to discuss with Gideon. He's a part of this, too, after all."

"'Cherries'?" she asked, and looked down at the trash bag and its traces of cherry-scented shampoo jutting from her suitcase, "It _that_ what you've been thinking about all this time, Blue?"

"I'm a multi-faceted fox, I think about lots of things simultaneously," he grinned in token smugness, "For example, I think about-" but cut himself off with a harsh, sudden grunt.

"Blue?"

"No, I'm fine," he winced, rubbing at the side of his head but smirking it off, "a slight pain in the brain, probably some new pollen for me to sneeze at."

"Never really knew the woods to have pollen like the fields do, but okay."

He cringed, but kept walking, "What, is there something special about these woods, pollen doesn't work in here?"

"No need to snap about it, it's just how they've always been," she frowned, first indignantly and then with concern, "Are you sure you're okay? We can head back to Giddy's and get some pain meds-"

"No, no, let's keep going."

"We shouldn't be halfway through, yet, we can still go around-?"

"Left right, left right, sweetheart; wasting daylight."

"Now hold up, Nick, we're not going _any_ where until you fix your attitude," she asserted, stepping in front of him and crossing her arms, suitcase at her feet.

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry," he sighed, setting down his luggage for a seat and to rub his head, "It feels like every step I take in these woods hurts a little more, but it's not like a migraine or hangover, I know what _those_ feel like. It's more like… I guess more like a sinus headache, except deeper?"

"Need to rest a minute, then?" Esther asked as tenderly as she could, crouching down and looking up at his scrunched face.

"Yeah, that should be fine," he said with a deep breath, "I'm sorry I snapped."

"Don't worry about it; I'd be short too if I had a headache for no reason. Any other symptoms?" she asked, pulling out her phone with a harrumph, "Never mind. We're close to some iron-roots, or something, because my phone's all nuts."

"They're 'spreading', you said?" Nick asked, thumbs at his temples to gently massage.

"That's the rumor."

"There's also a slight ringing in my ears, for what it's worth."

"C'mere, Blue, rest yer noggin," offered the vixen, and she knelt completely on the cool grass, patting her legs.

"Yes, ma'am," Nick said after realizing what she instructed. Slowly, he lay along the forest floor, beneath the canopy shade of sparsely speckled sunlight, and set his head upon her lap. Gentle claw tips raked across his scalp from brow to ear, sending minuscule jolts of electricity all along his spine and tail, "This is nice," he murmured, as though he might've meant to think it rather than speak it.

"Ma would do this for me & Giddy whenever we got headaches from fox-flu," she explained, keeping her voice low and sweet.

"Great, fox-flu for adults, but I welcome the treatment," he hummed, "We should stay like this all day."

"There's plenty of day ahead of us, Blue, and I still have shampoo to wash out of my stuff, but we can stay another few minutes."

"I'd like that."

"She also sang for us; I could hum a few bars, if it'll help."

"Fancy that, mine sang, too," Nick said, gradually drifting, "Dad tried, but he can't carry a tune if his life depended on it."

" _Lee-la-dee…_ " Esther sang after a quick giggle, " _lee-la-dee, lee-did-diddy-dee-doo…_ "


	18. Chapter 18

The two foxes exited the shaded woods into an open field, with a sizeable cluster of buildings that were some short distance off and, in accordance with Esther's speculation, marginally active. The mid-to-late morning sun glanced from behind some low-hanging clouds, causing the vixen to look up through her bangs.

"So this is Preds Corner?" Nick asked, moving his suitcase from one paw to the other and reaching for his phone.

"Unimpressed?"

"Surprised," he corrected, and checked a text message, "Gideon is 'bored'."

"Not surprised," she commented, and grabbed up her own phone once it found a signal and buzzed for attention, "Oh, he already told Judy & Bo about meeting up with us."

"Impressed?"

"It's more initiative than I expect out of him when it comes to social outings," and with a shrug, tucked the phone into her back pocket once more, "I'll hash out the details with her later, right now we should get to the homestead before the morning slips away."

"I have a 'city fox' question: what happens at a 'TBR', anyway?"

"Judy didn't tell you?" Esther asked, walking back along the treeline towards a road which lead further from Bunnyburrow. Nick gave a dismissive shrug and grinned in answer before she explained, "It's arguably the biggest faire in the Tri-Burrow area, happens every twenty years, give or take. I remember the last one was… something of a taboo for us Greys, because we were still somewhat new to the Burrow - by bunny standards, anyway - and having a fox family nearby wasn't _exactly_ smiled on; it's a good thing times have changed since then. I wanted to see the faire _so_ badly, and we could almost hear it from our house, but Pa said," in her best impression of a deep, fatherly voice, "'We ain't welcome there; not yet'."

"Oh ho, so _that_ 's why you're in town for the TBR. A kithood dream come true."

"And to support Giddy, of course," she beamed, "According to Mr. Hopps, it's gotta be the first time in TBR history that a _fox_ is part of the festivities."

"If you don't mind my asking, Cherries, what was so important back in Zootopia that you would've missed such a monumental event?"

"We're _swamped_ with cases, thanks to you and your Howler dens," she teased, to which Nick simply scoffed and smirked, "but Mr. Little - I'm on 'his side of the law firm' - said I could head out if I worked overtime leading up to this weekend. He's a sweet guy, probably the nicest bear I know."

"Bagh & Little, a law firm specializing in pred cases, and perhaps one of the least fortunately named in the city," recalled Nick.

"One thing, of a very short list, that Ira & John agreed on was the name order," she giggled.

"Ah, yes, 'Eer-a' not 'Eye-ra'; Mr. Bagh is quite sensitive about that."

"It can be a point of contention, sometimes."

"Speaking of contention, something occurs to me," Nick pondered aloud, "Gideon is the _first_ fox in the TBR, but is he the _only_ fox in the TBR?"

"Long & short of it."

"And all those bunnies are okay with this?"

"From the way Giddy tells it, him being there means good luck for them," she said.

" _A_ fox is 'good luck', but not a _family_ of foxes?"

"Twenty years is a long time, Blue, rabbits can't be scared of foxes forever. At least it's a step in the right direction."

"As soon as I think I've got bunnies figured out, they go and make up new definitions for 'dumb'."

And so they walked, and so they talked, following the old fence until they met a road leading into the residential area of the Preds' Corner; small plots of land were scattered up to the fence-marked treeline; it looked more and more like the farthest boundary for Bunnyburrow. Despite Nick's insistence that Preds' Corner and its associated farms were abandoned, Esther pointed out figures in a field or fellow travelers along the road, even the occasional vehicle passed by.

"There, see? Not a 'ghost town'," boasted Esther, checking a 'Grey' mailbox and pulling out some envelopes to tuck under her arm. Nick took a moment to absorb, standing at the end of the driveway and looking up the gentle slope to her house, remembering what Esther said about that fateful day when Gideon was sentenced to 'therapy'. A chill ran up his spine as he tried to imagine how it must feel to hear his name yelled across Bunnyburrow, and knowing the fox who yelled it was at the top of that driveway.

He followed his farmland guide through the front gate, closing it behind them with a gentle 'click'. As best his city fox brain could process, the Grey family 'farm' was little more than a grassy field, with areas marked off for… Nick guessed Goliath's carpentry by the clear indentations from tarps and erected canopies. He did notice a small soccer field with wooden goals, but it didn't look like it'd seen much in the way of use for a while; still, it was kept at the ready in hopes of a game.

"No crops?" asked Nick.

"There's a garden around back," Esther explained, "that's where Ma gets her produce from, at least what she doesn't get from the store. Pa & Ma's big trade is their craft, making some of the best furniture in Bunnyburrows, and I heard some of it even found it's way into Zootopia."

"Ruth, too?" he wondered, "Ah ha, she makes the upholstery, perhaps, no doubt a talented seamstress if that's the case." Nick paused, looking up at a notably big door Esther unlocked, and peered into a house which reminded him of living arrangements back in Zootopia, where everything was designed to accommodate a range of sizes. _Of course Goliath would build a place he could comfortably stand and walk around in, but these proportions are a bit dizzying, like it's somewhere between 'medium' and 'large'._ The smells were… homely, welcoming, yet somehow foreign to Nick, as if he either surrendered to familial embrace or stayed out entirely, with no middle ground. It occurred to him that this is what his own home must feel like to other foxes, or even other mammals who managed to befriend a fox.

"She threads a mean needle, no doubt about that," Esther said, and then turned to find Nick hesitating at the threshold. She stood right inside, her suitcase already down near the open door; the outside light cast a harsh shadow, and made the Grey household look dark. He didn't feel this way when walking into Gideon's apartment, perhaps because it was still a bachelor's den, and this was something more, something _deeper_. "Be warned, Blue, 'as soon as you walk through that door, you're family', like Ma would say," she dared in a grin.

"Courage to the sticking place," quipped Nick with an easy air, and strode through the doorway, knuckles gripping his luggage. As soon as he stepped in, the house seemed a little less dark, yet the ambient light was still drastic for the interior. Without cue, Nick reached back to close the door, the click of the latch was like an auctioneer's gavel; his bid was made. The darkness dispersed when the nocturnal eyes of a fox adjusted, now that the sunlight from outside no longer cast its blinding rays, and the Grey house felt much more… like home. There was still a weight anchoring his arm, though, so he relaxed his knuckles and left his baggage at the door.

"I'll get started on laundry in a bit, but first, you need hydration," the vixen relayed, sauntering to a kitchen which, in relation to the rest of the house, was notably smaller. Nick studied his surroundings and immediately spotted the most obvious difference in size between Mr. & Mrs. Grey: their armchairs. One looked like someone stapled cushions to the stump of an oak tree, the other he initially mistook for an accompanying ottoman.

"Esther, your mother is _tiny_ ," he blurted out, unable to mask his incredulity, "Goliath could lift her over his head with one paw."

"He does."

"Come again?"

"He lifts her over his head, she loves it," Esther said with a warm smile, "She's short & stout, our little teapot, but fierce as thunder. When Giddy & I were kits, Pa'd have one of us in each paw and go running around the yard; scared Ma half to death, especially when he tossed us in the air like a ball to catch us again. I remember after a long day at the faire, he'd carry the three of us home in his arms. They're some of my most cherished memories."

Nick covered the distance of the living room floor as she spoke, leaning on the counter and accepting the glass of water she retrieved from the kitchen sink. He quietly vocalized his approval of the cool refreshment, "How is this water so _good_? It's better than the filtered water back in the city."

"Underground spring," she answered, walking past him to gather up her shampoo-soaked clothes, "Pa taught himself everything he needed to know to get a homestead up and running; plumbing, electricity, masonry, and got help with the more advanced stuff. He even set up that flat-screen you see over there."

"Yes, I noticed that older model TV mounted to the wall. I also noticed the claw marks in the arms of his chair," he sipped his water in a very scholarly manner, "You mentioned he gets excited about soccer games?"

"Soccer and carpentry, Pa's two big passions," she said, suitcase swinging at her side as he walked through the kitchen and to the back door, "After his family of course."

"Naturally," he grinned, "Washing machine & dryer are outside?"

"Pa built a shed for 'em, in exchange for the TV," she grinned right back, "Make yourself comfy, Blue, and help yourself to anything in the fridge, I have some cleaning to do."

The door closed, and Nick first helped himself to more of that underground water. _To think, all the city's advancement in water purification technology, and it can't beat a natural spring out in the boondocks_ , he mused, examining the crystal-clear water and all that was visible through it. _Hmm… those dried peaches are_ on _the fridge, not_ in _it, so am I still allowed to help myself to them?_ he wondered, as more a courteous consideration than an actual question, since he already reached for them on his way to Goliath's enormous chair.

He breathed deep the smell of finished wood and lingering baked goods, munching idly upon a dried peach as he thought about 'A fox is good luck, but a family of foxes is not'. _I've heard something about that before, but where?_ Chew as he might, Nick's memory banks served him little purpose, other than barn doors, ashes, and how Esther's overalls  & cinched-up shirt showed off her sides. _She did that purposefully to bait me_ , he pondered, _and it's working. I'm sure my wearing this shirt is baiting her, too, but she's a hard vixen to read. I guess a defense attorney would need to be._

Without much more to invest in the subject of fox families and whatever manner of luck they might bring, Nick reached for the television remote sitting on the chair's arm, and decided to vegetate on the late Sunday morning.

 _[Click]_

"...passing wide to the forward receiver…"

 _[Click]_

"...a fine example of silverware, the din-..."

 _[Click]_

"...and from His song came…"

 _[Click]_

"...La-a-a-ambert the Li-..."

 _[Click]_

[On-screen explosions]

 _[Click]_

"...We'll be right back after a word from our sponsor…"

 _Oh hey, I remember this show_ , Nick thought with a smile, willing to sit through a few commercials to catch the last half of it. Letting the remote rest, he settled in and pulled out another dried peach to munch on.

"Scoot, Blue," Esther said, walking around the armchair and gesturing with a flick of her wrist, "There's enough room up there for the both of us."

"Only if you can answer _me_ these questions _three_ ," he began theatrically, "Question the first: What's the news on the bunnies?"

"They're meeting us at Preds' Corner for lunch," she said, arms crossed and shifting weight to one leg.

"Correct!" he replied dramatically, to which she rolled her eyes, "Question the second: what is the _third_ question?"

"'Is it possible for Nick Wilde to be normal about _any_ thing?'"

"Correct! Question the third: is it possible for _Nick Wilde_ to be normal about anything?"

"Not to save his life."

"Correct! You may join me upon the giant's throne, fair maiden," he enunciated, and made spooky whooshing noises as he scooted to one side of the armchair. "So, what shall two foxes do alone in all this free time?" he wondered aloud in his normal voice.

"You can start by passing me a peach," she suggested, fitting herself against Nick and crossing one leg over the other; he complied and handed her a single pink-orange ring. "What're we watching?" she asked, chewing on the single ring patiently.

"Commercials; known for financially supporting TV stations through ad revenue in the hopes that viewers will buy their product."

"Okay, what _specifically,_ are we watching?"

"This one's for the Hexward Pharmaceuticals company, advertising their latest pill for retractile dysfunction."

"...Okay, _after_ the commercials are done and we return to the _show_ , what will we be watching?"

" _The Many Adventures of the Foxgloves_ ," he explained, taking another sip of water.

"Ooh, I loved that as a kit! Which episode it is?"

"Unknown; came in right at the commercial break. By the way, have you ever noticed how the Hexward logo looks like a fox's face on a shield?" he said, holding out his paws to frame it, "Kinda looking straight-on, nose down, ears up; it's abstract, but it's there."

"I never thought of it before, Blue," she said, squinting at the passing image, "I always figured it was only some kind of fancy design, but now I can't un-see it."

"You're welcome," he grinned, "Speaking of symbology, I saw the cracked stone right outside the front door. Are the Greys a Chronicler family?"

"We sure are," she said with a smile, "Sing every morning, evening, and twice more on Sundays; Ma & Pa made sure of that. Are the Wildes?"

"Me, personally? Not for some years. The folks still go at it, I don't doubt, Mom singing the songs and Dad telling the tales. Now that they're back in my life, though, who knows."

"You were humming that song all the way from the wood, as I recall."

"Well, Mom sang that song to me when I was a kit, I couldn't forget it if I _tried_. Not that I'd _want_ to," Nick said, eyes on the TV screen as the commercials flashed by. He glanced at Esther, whom smiled kindly and fit in a bit closer.

"Hey Nick," she said, enjoying the peace of the moment, "I'm not complaining at all, but I am curious; why did you want to be a cop? Judy wants to make the world a better place, and she won't admit it, but she also wants to prove that bunnies are more than cute carrot farmers. It can't be any easier for a fox to be a cop than a bunny, though."

"Well," he began, and turned the volume down on the television a bit, reclining introspectively, "Nothing so altruistic as worldly betterment, but personally, I wanted to be part of something bigger than myself, to be a better me, ever since I was a kit." He gestured to the muted sounds and closed captioning of the _Foxgloves_ episode, "They're amazing, and I don't know a single _rational_ fox that didn't want to emulate them in some way. I wanted to be like Mr. Fox, diving in and saving the day before the bad guys knew what hit them, so when I got older, I joined the Junior Ranger Scouts. That didn't go over so well. Fast forward to a year ago, I met this _crazy_ bunny who saw in me a chance to not only better myself, but maybe show the world that foxes aren't all shifty, underhanded villains. So, to make a long story short, I'm a cop because a bunny trusted a fox."

"Judy's pretty amazing in that regard," Esther said solemnly.

"Turnabout's fair play, Ms. Grey," smirked Nick, "Why are _you_ a defense lawyer?"

"Coincidentally," she chuckled, "It's also because of Judy. The day Giddy was bused off to his therapy, I set it upon myself to make amends with the Hoppses. I was a straight-A valedictorian in good standing with the community, and could wrap anyone around my little finger as soon as look at them; I figured if there were a Grey up to the task, it'd be _me_. So, I went to go check up on Judy, but I couldn't get within a stone's throw of the Hopps Farm to save my life. This went on for maybe… two days before I questioned _why_ 18-year-old me was trying to get in good graces with a 9-year-old bunny ' _dumb_ enough to tussle with a fox'.

"And then there she was, cheek bandaged but smiling all the while, saying how she 'finally managed to escape' and meet up with me. I was about to win her over in 10 words or less, but she caught me off guard with an apology." Esther set her head back against the seat cushion, bringing up a knee to loop her woven fingers around it, "She said she was 'sorry for getting Gideon in trouble', for 'not protecting him' from the bullies; she thought it was her fault that he turned out the way he did, that's why she tried so hard to make him turn back to the right path. Not even doubled-digits but she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, Blue; I'd be lying if I said I befriended her because the truth of the matter is, _she_ befriended _me_. It didn't take long before her parents caught on, though, but Ma talked with Bonnie and, somehow, they agreed it was okay."

"Mothers, am I right?"

"The strangest things," she agreed, "Giddy got back from his therapy, but he was already expelled from Woodlands, and on top of that he couldn't _look_ at a bunny without stuttering, so he was enrolled into a small group of young 'troubled' preds for home-schooling. I was there for him as best I could be, but he was _so_ withdrawn, it hardly felt like he was there at all." She sighed heavily, both legs pulled up and rubbing them thoughtfully, "Judy became like a little sister to me, so I decided to put my good grades to use and join her in bettering the world. I wasn't cut out to be a cop, though, so she suggested I be a part of the law another way; I applied to law school as soon as I could, and the rest is history."

"Our dear Carrots, setting the standard by 'doing impossible things'," Nick grinned, "Sounds like another day in the life of Judy Hopps."


	19. Chapter 19

At Nick's behest, Esther decided to stick with her original attire of overalls and a tied shirt, rather than scrounge for another outfit from the room kept for her visits. "You're the ideal combination of 'small town farm girl' and 'big city defense lawyer', capturing the best aspects of both exquisitely," he described.

"Well, alright," she relented, "but I'm putting on some shorts under these, I feel like I'll fall out if I jump too much."

"But it'll ruin the whole look!" he pled. Her choice of workout shorts beneath the overalls was later lauded as "stunningly complimentary".

In the hour before noon, clouds capriciously shaded the countryside and either fox donned their shades for the walk back to Preds' Corner; Nick with his wide, reflective lenses and Esther with her coin-sized dark lenses, which she kept at the end of her snout more often than not. Their conversation drifted towards some of their favorite _Foxglove_ stories, walking down nostalgia as well as the Brambles' residential, exchanging theories of which were based on historical figures/events and which were simply fiction.

"That's odd," she observed, noting the celebratory banners hanging from the street lamps and buildings of Preds' Corner, now that they were close enough to see them, "Those _should_ be the TBR banners, they're everywhere in the Burrow proper, but _here_ they're… I'm not really sure what they are."

"We are lucky, aren't we?" said Nick with a broad smile, sitting his sunglasses atop his brow. To Esther's questioning glare, he continued, "I can't think of a better way to whet my appetite than to solve a mystery on the way to lunch. Let's take a look at this piece-by-piece: here we have three white symbols and a phrase on a bright red banner. One the symbols looks to me a rabbit's footprint inside of a horse's hoofprint, and if my world lore is correct, that signifies an age-old truce between horses & rabbits that's rich in tradition and heritage.

"That second symbol resembles a four-winged blackbird with its head pointed one way and its feet another, perched on a wooden frame with crossed bars behind it. Unless I'm very much mistaken, that is a symbol of some spiritual significance, but I cannot for the life of me remember why." _Nothing I would say aloud, in any case._

"That third symbol…" he concluded, "My guess, it's a _very_ stylized re-design of the  Hexward Pharmaceuticals logo; perhaps a sponsor of the TBR."

"I wonder what 'fortuna regente' means?" Esther asked no one in particular, sliding the sunglasses to her nose and pulling out her phone, "Zoogle, reveal to me your secrets."

"Good noon, Mr. & Mrs. Fox," came the sweet, charming voice of a cordial rabbit, dressed in fine clothes and well-groomed cream fur, "Forgive my intrusion, but I could not help but overhear your analysis of our banner. You are quite correct, almost perfect, except for the third symbol," he said, and gestured up, "It is no more or less the sigil of the Hexward Tenets, which, I cannot deny, the pharmaceutical company's logo is based on. If I may be so bold as to continue prying, Mrs. Fox, I am afraid you will find naught but mistranslation there, since 'fortuna regente' simply means 'guided by blessings'. A good noon to you both," he said with a tip of his hat, continuing down the street with mate & children in tow.

"He sure smiled an awful lot," whispered Esther while stashing her phone.

"It's the TBR, practically a national holiday for bunnies. I'd be stoked, too, were I in his position," Nick smirked, and held out his elbow, "So, shall we, _Mrs. Fox_?"

"Oh, certainly, _Mr. Fox_ , let's," she agreed, sharing a secret chuckle and taking his arm.

The amiable greetings of "Mr. Fox", "Mrs. Fox", and "Mr. & Mrs. Fox" followed them along the street, but to their relief, not at a nauseating frequency, and each time it brought out a bit of kit-like glee. Something that _didn't_ sit well with Esther was how, despite the severe lack of preds or any Preds' Corner regulars, the shops and businesses were not closed for the TBR; on the contrary, they were run entirely by rabbits and the occasional hare.

"You don't visit for a few months and everything changes," Esther griped to Nick.

"Where are we going, anyway? Sauntering is all well and good, but I'd rather have a set destination," he griped right back, donning his shades once more, and like magic, the rabbits politely paid him no heed. Nick took a moment to further test this; when he doffed his shades he was warmly greeted, and warmly ignored when donned. _I shan't abuse this, I shan't abuse this, I shan't abuse this…_

"A new Ratatouille opened up nearby; we can slip down this alley for a shortcut," she explained, pointing down a gap between the buildings which was, Nick recognized, thankfully free of rabbits, "I've always wanted to go there, but it's impossible to get a table at any of the ones in Zootopia."

"Somehow Judy grabbed a spot?" he asked with arched eyebrows, _Sly bunny, her clout grows by the day._

"I know, right? This weekend keeps getting better & better, Blue," she beamed, "I'm afraid I'm gonna wake up in a pool of drool on my desk, or somethin'."

"I'm afraid I'm gonna wake up from a drug-induced coma," Nick snarked, and before Esther could further question his statement, as was evident from her incredulous expression, "I might've fallen face first into a pile of packaged pollen in a Howler den, you never know."

"That _happens_?" she asked, incredulity not dissuaded.

"Only to Officer Wolford, and only once, but he won't ever hear the end of it."

"Is he… okay?" the vixen continued, disbelief shifting to concern.

"Nothing a shower couldn't fix."

"And that's not unusual to you? I've read the reports, Blue, he _should_ be a vegetable."

"Of course not, he fell onto _unprocessed_ pollen, it wouldn't affect him for more than a few seconds," he elaborated, "There was an unrelated call from down at the docks, and I happened to pick up on the trail of a huge shipment. In fact, I've got some 'wolf-cred' with the pack at the precinct, because I can smell out pollen where they can't."

"C'mon, Blue, _that_ 's unusual. Wolves have the most sensitive sniffers I've _ever_ known. A wolf at the office takes bets to guess what others had for breakfast the day before."

"Okay, I'll admit it's a _bit_ strange, but it's also kinda cool. It's kinda like how otters are naturally buoyant, or lion dads breathe life into their cubs when their born."

"Ya'know," she said with a light chuckle, "I hear that some hospitals, especially pred ones, have a nurse lion on standby in the maternity ward, in case the father isn't present."

"Although," Nick considered, "I think if I had a 'cool fox power', it wouldn't be 'detecting Night Howler pollen'."

"Oh, and what would this 'cool fox power' be, hmm?"

"Introductory paralysis," he smiled, "My first impression freezes _any_ one I meet." Esther swatted him with her tail as they stepped back onto the sidewalk.

Around the corner and across the street, the "Grand Opening!" banner was still up and new, as well as the mysterious red banner with the white symbols. Waltzing up, Nick & Esther doffed their shades and were greeted with the expected "Mr. & Mrs. Fox", by a cheerful young hare that was informed of their arrival. Directed towards a corner booth in the back with privacy screens, they both caught sight of a nicely-but-casually dressed Judy & Bo leaning out and waving: she in a drastically over-sized orange-red shirt over a tight-mesh yellow tank top, though belted in such a way that it looked more like a knee-length, broad-sleeved dress that hung off one shoulder; he had a plain-gray sleeveless shirt under an open button-up, short-sleeve bright orange shirt, as well as a pair of outdoorsy black cargo shorts. Once again, "Mr. & Mrs. Fox" referenced the foxes; Judy barely masked her mortification, such that even Bo caught onto it.

"Oh, Judy, it's wonderful to see you again," Esther said, sliding into the round booth and leaning in so they could embrace & kiss each other's cheek, which helped to calm the gray rabbit a tiny bit, "We really shouldn't wait for a TBR to meet up."

"Something the matter, Carrots?" asked Nick, leaning his elbow on the table, " I haven't seen you _this_ put off since Mystic Springs."

"Oh my gosh, I am _so_ sorry," she said in a harsh whisper, "I didn't think they'd be so _rude_."

"Sweet Tea, what're you talkin' about?" Esther asked, "Truth be told, they're politeness is a bit overbearing."

"We gave them your names, though," Bo interjected, "but they still called you 'Mr. & Mrs. Fox', as if you were mated!"

Exchanging an expression, it took what self control each fox could muster not to burst into laughter, even though bewildering bunnies was something of a pastime for them.

"Have I _never_ told you of 'Mr.  & Mrs. Fox'?" the vixen asked, still smirking from the previous merriment, "Oh, idiot that I am, it _completely_ slipped my mind; you probably know them as 'The Foxgloves'."

"You mean that show you & Gideon used to watch every week?" Judy said, face softening to curiosity.

" _Every_ kit wishes their parents were as cool as ' _Mr. & Mrs. Fox_'," Nick began, "They're effectively an urban legend that's been around long enough to be folklore. Some years ago, all the stories were gathered up and adapted into ' _The Many Adventures of the Foxgloves_ ' for TV, radio, movies, what-have-you. As a matter of fact, Clawhauser owns some of their comic books," he then leaned in towards Judy, "and you didn't hear it from _me_ , but Finnick secreted a major crush on Mrs. Foxglove well into adulthood."

"They're kind of like what _Captain Warren_ is for the rabbit community, then?" Judy postulated cheerfully.

"A little less punching, a little more subtlety," Esther clarified in amusement, " _My_ personal favorite is one of the oldest; it's about a noble rogue and a valiant princess that undermine the tyranny of a false king, and free an oppressed people."

"Hey, _Captain Warren_ is the best," Bo asserted.

"I'm more a fan of the modern spy stories," Nick carried on, "but it all started with the tales fox parents told their kits, often to teach about doing the right thing in the face of adversity, trusting in yourself & loved ones, and to present foxes in a good light, _et cetera_ , _et cetera_."

"I'll need to borrow those comics one of these days, they sound like a good read," Judy considered, and then settled into a comfortable smugness, "Speaking of fox couples, you two look like you're getting along well enough. Hope I didn't _interrupt_ anything by calling you out here?"

"Wow, Judy, that's a bit brazen," Bo said, shifting awkwardly in his seat, "Aren't they cousins?"

"Oh, Sweet Tea, I have news!" Esther burst in, "So, you know how I've spent my adult life trying to find ' _Uncle_ Jacky'? As it turns out, I should have looked for ' _Aunt_ Jackie'!" and she gestured to Nick as though presenting him.

"My mom, the vixen formerly known as 'Jackie Savage'," he grinned.

"Esther, that's amazing!" Judy gasped, and then clapped her paws together with barely contained excitement, "So Jacky's been a _vixen_ this whole time? No wonder you couldn't find him! ' _Her'_ , I mean, 'her'."

"This still makes them cousins," Bo desperately tried again.

"Oh! Bo, I'm so sorry; okay, quick recap," Esther rattled off with a 'wheel-turning' gesture of her index fingers, "Nick is Giddy's cousin because Ma & Jackie are sisters, but Giddy & I are only half-siblings because of Pa."

Bo seemed unconvinced, quietly listening from across the table with a cradled chin and a furrowing brow, "Hmm…"

"That means we're actually _not_ cousins," Nick elaborated.

"I got that, it's great and all, but isn't that still… I don't know, kinda wei-?" he suddenly cut short with a swift twitch of Judy's positioning.

"Bobo, bunnies find their mates on the farm they grew up in all the time, right?" she said, "You're practically a Hopps yourself."

He sighed in resignation, "You're right, I'm sorry. 'Though we are not of the same blood, we are of the same heart.' I guess it goes both ways, huh?"

"For all intents and purposes, Nick & I were _completely_ unrelated strangers before this weekend," Esther began, and then looked at Judy's developing smirk to assertively add, "Known _only_ by name and in passing."

"Speaking of strangers, where is our waiter?" Nick interjected, "Feels like we've been sitting here forever-"

"Thank you for your patience," appeared a sharply-dressed rabbit, "Can I start you off with some drinks?"

When the meals at last arrived, after a long debate on the conditions that _Mr. Foxglove_ could defeat _Captain Warren_ and vice versa, Bo was already on his second refill of 'Cream-of-the-Crop Tropical Punch' and Nick finished off three baskets of bread unaided.

"This pheasant is vegetarian," the fox reported, using his fork to lift a piece up to a wrinkled nose, and trying a small bite, "The menu did _not_ say it was vegetarian."

"Mmh, so it is," Esther concurred after swallowing her bite, "it tastes alright, like vegetables, but it's not bad."

"Nick, _you_ 're a vegetarian," Judy reminded.

"A personal choice I take seriously, Carrots. I refuse meat because _no_ one in Zootopia knows how to properly make it without patronizing or condemning their clientele," he insisted, "until I tasted Gideon's cooking, that is; so, I thought I'd give it another shot. _This_ , however…" Nick stated firmly, turning the _faux_ fowl away to focus on the side dish, "I ordered 'pheasant with seasonal vegetables', not 'pheasant- _seasoned_ vegetables'."

"No dessert until you finish your veggie-bird," Judy said in a motherly tone.

"I already filled up on bread, so _hah_ ," scoffed Nick, "Besides, I'm not eating it on _principle_."

"Sounds like a very mature tantrum," Judy continued, skewering more of her salad to eat.

"Here, _I_ 'll eat it," offered Bo, sliding his own salad bowl over. To this, Nick gladly shoved it from his plate on to a bed of crisp spinach & kale.

"It's unprofessional is what it is," Nick continued, buttering another roll, "If they don't serve meat, they should say so; simple as that."

"Look at it this way, Nick," Bo said between bites, "There's probably a half-a-dozen preds in Bunnyburrow right now, if that, because they're all off on vacation for _at least_ the next week. That's why a bunch of employment agencies from the city came out and filled in the absence, to keep the shops running and Preds' Corner maintained. If they buy meat, there might be one, maybe two patrons that would eat it, so it makes sense to buy exclusively for bunnies while the TBR is in full swing. It's only for a week or so, after all."

"...And all the pred shop owners agreed this was a _good_ idea?"

"C'mon, Slick, it's not like that," Judy said, "According to my parents it was all part of planning out the TBR. There was an open town forum about it several months ago; even the _CEO_ of Hexward spoke with the residents of Preds' Corner and offered to sponsor a week's vacation. Completely voluntary, by the way, and he even lined up a _Caribouan Cruise_ for anyone who wanted it."

"Ma & Pa were thrilled when they heard that," Esther added, "Ever since she was a kit, Ma wanted to go on a sailing ship, just like Grampub did in his glory days. Giddy & I were actually planning to gift them a trip on their anniversary, so instead, we gave them what we saved up so they could have the 'all expenses paid' part."

 _I'd bet my tail Ms. Clara isn't a resident a Preds' Corner_ , Nick pondered, _surely, she'd have jumped at the opportunity of a Caribouan Cruise same as the Greys._ "Well, I gotta hand it to  Hexward," Nick grinned, "They sure know how to take care of a town. The expense and legal hassle _alone_ for something of this magnitude must be mind blowing." Judy  & Esther exchanged skepticism, but Bo seemed content with finishing off the pheasant-seasoned vegetables.

"This is amazing," the larger rabbit said, "you don't know what you're missing, Nick. I need to speak with the chef sometime, find out how they made this so _good_."

"I'm quite sure I do," the fox replied, "What is both amazing _and_ mindblowing is the fact that you, a bunny, are eating _any_ thing meat-flavored."

"I wouldn't say it was 'meat-flavored'," Esther commented behind a napkin.

"That's _right_ , you don't know about Bo's little obsession," Judy said, patting his shoulder as he gave her a pleading glance, "Rabbits don't pack on muscle very well, since plant proteins hit a pretty low plateau for us; not like horses, elephants, and other large prey."

"Insects, fish, and poultry work _way_ better," he picked it up after swallowing, "But in the ratio to pounds eaten and grams gained, versus availability and affordability, poultry wins out, no contest. Problem is, rabbits have a problem keeping bird meat down. I figure it's not the flesh itself, it's the taste  & the texture, something about it tells our brains to reject it. Which works fine, for about 99.99% of rabbits."

"But oh, that 0.01% percent, Mr. Bo Briar," Nick smirked.

"I'm kind of an outlier, but it's not just about _me_ , Nick," he continued, setting his fork down, "There are rabbits who are bedridden, anemic, or paraplegic because they can't form muscle tissue faster than their body uses it. I used to be that way when I was young."

"All fur and bones, this one, but then he grew up and out," Judy beamed, grabbing around his bicep to show how her fingers couldn't touch. "Went to school, became a certified nutritionist, now using himself as a testing ground for supplements."

"The MMA is still the mountain's peak," Bo said, flexing his arm to increase the distance between Judy's fingers, much to her amusement, "but along the way, I figured I'd do some good. I might even get an internship at Hexward."

"Oh, really?" Nick asked, leaning on the table with a sly, curious grin.

"Yeah! I won't be a fighter forever, ya'know. After I win in the Septagon, I can better market supplements & meals that help promote healthy, organic muscle growth, something practically _unheard of_ for rabbits."

"So, what's all… this, then?" he wondered aloud, gesturing to Bo's general physique.

"Years of trial, error, and exercise," the rabbit grinned and jut his chest out, to which his shirt protested the limits of its elasticity, "Those bedridden rabbits I mentioned don't have the luxury of youth and free movement, like I do, they need something to keep the muscle on their bones through a regular, affordable diet. I'm hoping it might be possible with some kind of spice or sauce, sprinkle it on yer food, that kinda thing, but I'm a nutritionist, not a cook; heck, I have trouble making _toast_."

"Pudding and cereal are about the only things he doesn't burn," Judy confirmed, "he eats mostly raw fruits & vegetables."

"If preparing food is your greatest obstacle, I suggest working with Gideon," Nick grinned.

"No offense, but I'll need a more varied menu than pastries," Bo dismissed.

"Giddy does more than pies and cakes, Bo," Esther interjected, setting her fork down as Nick began stacking the dishes at the end of the table, "Those are his specialty, sure, but he runs the gamut of meals, from pastas, stews, casseroles, you name it."

"Last night he made stir fry _&_ won-tons," Nick then dramatized lament, "my only regret is that we ate it all, and now there's no more..."

Bo seemed convinced, quietly listening from across the table with a cradled chin and a furrowed brow, "Hmm…"

"I can hear the gears turning from here," Nick whispered to Esther, who nodded sagely.

"I suppose if I _did_ go into business with Gideon, I wouldn't need to work with  Hexward, necessarily. With my foot in the door of a drug company, I thought I could at least make a supplemental pill, if nothing else; it'd pale in comparison, sure, but it's better than an injection," he pondered aloud, "The formula's there _on paper_ , but it's practically eating dirt mixed with paint thinner."

"Bo, sweetie, I tried it," Judy grimaced kindly, "Dirt mixed with paint thinner would taste better."

As Bo smiled apologetically, the waiter came by to exchange the plate of dishes with the check, "Thank you for dining with us today, come again soon," and was off to the kitchen once more. Nick took a gander inside to find that someone drew a smiling fox face framed in a shield on the customer's receipt copy, with a "ka-poof!" written under it. _Is this insulting or endearing?_ he considered.

"Bo," he asked in a calm grin, "what is 'ka-poof!'?"

"Hmm?" he grunted, ears sprung that Nick asked him a question as if he might know the answer, which also earned Judy's curiosity, "In relation to what?"

"Quite possibly Hexward," Nick clarified, letting Esther examine the single slip of paper before closing it, and then handing it off across the table for the bunnies' opinion.

"That doesn't make sense," Judy admitted, leaning the check towards her as Bo read it.

"Well," the earth-toned rabbit said smugly, enunciating the longer words of his response, "It's a _homophone_ of an acronym for the  Hexward company promise: the 'Correct and Proper Use of Pharmaceuticals'; C-A-P-U-O-...P _h_?"

"That's why it doesn't make sense, but I guess it's better than 'ka-poop'," Judy explained, to which Bo bit back a snicker, "Looks like an anonymous benefactor took care of our lunch with, I'm guessing, a company credit card."

"Now I feel bad for not eating that veggie-bird," rued Nick, sliding out of the booth.

"No, you don't," Judy corrected, following Esther around the table as she also exited.

"Maybe a little?" the fox supposed, one paw pinching a thumb and finger close.

"Not at all," the vixen also corrected, accepting Nick's other paw to stand from her seat.

"I was _sure_ I felt an iota of guilt for a second there…" he mused.

"See? Told you you didn't know what you were missing," Bo grinned in another attempt of smugness, while holding out a paw to help Judy from the round booth; he had scooted out the other side. Nick begged Judy with a look to enlighten him of the missed nuance, but she kept the fox and his barbed tongue at bay with a stern glance.

The noonday sun was bright on the street so each fox donned their sunglasses, and Bo excitedly dug through his pockets to find his glow-in-the-dark green shades; he flicked the arms using both thumbs and slid them over his face with a content smile. Judy, already equipped with her own pair of classy, wire-framed sunglasses returned his delight.

"Hey, Esther," Judy said, arching her brows over the frames of her glasses in a particularly communicative manner, "Pedicure?"

"Ooh, let's!" agreed the vixen, lightly clapping her paws together.

"C'mon, Bo," Nick said, catching the softball prompt by slinging an arm about the rabbit's thick neck, "I do believe I owe you a drink for all your help yesterday."

"Oh, but…?"

"Don't worry, Bobo," she assured "we're gonna go do girl stuff while you go do guy stuff, and then we'll meet back up in about an hour or so, okay?" He smiled brightly, and leaned in to touch his nose to hers.

"So," Nick said, guiding the male rabbit away from the departing femmes, "while they're off doing whatever it is _they're_ doing, how about you show me your favorite watering hole?"

"Uh, about that… I don't come around Preds' Corner too often, and I don't really drink a whole lot," Bo admitted. Nick's patient smile did not falter.

"Right," he said, and then whipped out his phone, "I'll find us a reasonably priced place that's not too far a walk… this one, 'Phil's', should do the trick." With a clap to Bo's back, Nick held out his phone like a dowsing rod to lead the way.


	20. Chapter 20

"We passed _two_ places on the way here, Nick," Bo protested, scratching his head as he looked up at the simplistic 'Phil's' sign. The severe lack of foot traffic made it seem abandoned, but from its position in town it would be a regular place at any other time of the year.

"Cost-to-distance ratio, Punch," the fox grinned, "but most importantly, this unique establishment had _no_ reviews in the past two weeks, so it should be relatively free of visiting rabbits."

"Whoa, now hold on a minute," the rabbit protested further, grabbing Nick's shoulder to get his smug attention before he could enter the nearby door, "Why am I 'Punch'?"

"Oh," the fox further grinned, doffing his shades to rest atop his brow, "It's multi-faceted, but I'm afraid an explanation would diminish its effect. Judy is 'Carrots', Gideon is 'Bangs', Esther is 'Cherries', and _you_ , ol' buddy ol' pal, are 'Punch'."

"But I don't wanna be ' _Punch_ '," the rabbit griped, "Can't I be, like-"

"Ah ah ah," he tsked with a wag of his finger, "You don't get to choose your _nick_ name."

"Well, maybe _I_ have a nickname for _you_?"

"I would _love_ to hear it," he dared with a shrugging smile, "after all, I'm already known as 'Slick', 'Stretch', and 'Blue'; respectively. However, you must choose _wisely_ , young buck, for there is a power in names that affects not only me, but yourself and all those we hold dear. A nickname reflects your perception of those whom you name and reveals to all your judge of character; thus, the _strength_ of your character."

Bo stood with stony trepidation, once more treating Nick to the machinations of his cognitive gears.

 _He makes this so easy that I almost feel bad about it,_ the fox mused, and then reached around to clap Bo's back, "And have fun with it, that's the big thing to keep in mind."

Nick entered to the door's quiet swing, a cursory glance of the establishment revealing more than his expectations dared to speculate. There was the bar in front of a wall mirror and bottles of beverages on display. There were the the booths on the facing wall, behind the unanchored tables with chairs stacked atop. At the far wall was the the pool table, a smaller pool table, the jukebox, and the taller standing tables. In the wide, empty floor space provided by moving all the tables was a peach-shirted, fat goat with an extraordinarily red nose, and shaggy, earthen clay red fur. At the end of the bar was a large, rotund pitch-black boar, who looked like his entire day was dedicated to nursing a tall glass, not even addressing the low-volume news program from the wall-mounted TV.

"You kids lost?" grunted the goat, bent over a broom handle and sweeping a floor made clear by the lack of patronage, "Either pull up a stool or beat it, I ain't got time for goo-goo eyes." For a goat, he was short, but that still made him bigger, if by only a minor margin, than both the fox & rabbit. He didn't seem altogether interested in their answer either, as he continued his stiff bristling of the hardwood floor without sparing them another moment of attention.

"I like this place," Nick said to Bo, and then walked in, holding the rabbit's introduction with a raised finger as he approached a nearby barstool. Bracing against the footrest, the fox fluidly seated himself upon the high cushion; he did not forget how to live with larger mammals after only a few days in Bunnytown, after all. 'Punch', perhaps more accustomed to a rabbit-centric society, made his own leap atop the stool in a single bound, but was far less graceful about it. Once again, Nick held Bo's query for attention with a single finger, demonstrating proper tavern etiquette by relaxing one's elbows atop the bar and awaiting service.

The sweeping stopped to a cloven clop as the presumed "Phil" came around the side of the bar. "Pull yer pants up, ya' bum," he reprimanded with a muffled 'thwack' of wood on fat, triggering a guttural squeal from the boar but otherwise no response; until he reached back to apathetically tug a drooping waistline over offending cleavage. "So, what'll it be?" he asked the newcomers, preparing a mug by wiping it down, although it obviously did not need further cleaning.

"Two ciders for my friend & I," the fox grinned, clapping Bo's back with one paw and showing two fingers with the other.

"New to town, huh?" the old goat pointed out, filling a pair of mugs with 'cold gold' and setting out a coaster for each, "Thought all the foxes scampered on out of here."

"Visiting family & friends," Nick reported, taking up his mug and clinking it against Bo's still bar-bound drink for a quick chug. It seemed Bo's cognitive gears worked overtime, because he barely realized there was also a drink for him until it was he heard the gentle collision of glass. The barkeeper's eyebrow arched with blatant skepticism.

"Oh yeah, sure, all those 'family & friends' out on a cruise," he scoffed, and then looked blankly at the nearby rabbit, whom said nothing as of yet. "And what's a greenhorn like you hopping around my joint for? Figured you'd be with the rest of those cottontails up the street."

"Hey-!" Bo began indignantly, earning a swift, nonchalant swat from Nick's tail.

"He's showing a city fox like me around Preds Corner," aided Nick, "Such hospitality." Phil's keen eyes returned to the fox and studied him harder, to which he did not surrender even the slightest lip-curl, "How about you, holding down the fort?"

"Like I had a choice," he snorted, "that 'Caribouan Cruise' was a sham from beginning to end. Would I like to take a week off without worrying about my bar? You betcha, who wouldn't. But that _mashugana_ pennypincher only sends the _preds_! Oh yeah, sure, us _prey_ get a 'discount', if you can call it that," he mocked, hoofed knuckles air-quoting with all the substantial sarcasm available to a surly old goat, but calmed as quickly as he was riled and rested a cheek in his palm, "Anyway, it wouldn't be so bad if it didn't feel like all these out-of-towners are deliberately avoiding the place."

"You yelled at a bunch of kids and made them cry, Phil," said the boar matter-of-factly.

"Shaddup, Erym!" he bleated, flicking at the excess of fur off his chin, "They kept tryin' to pull hairs outta my beard!"

"One of them _did_ ," 'Erym' continued, "Another wanted his foot."

"And I gave it!" and then kicked the air.

"I bet _that_ made you popular," smirked Nick.

"Certainly didn't _help_ ," the goat grumbled.

"This 'pennypincher' you mentioned, was that the Hexward CEO?" inquired the fox.

"Who _else_ would I be talking about?"

"That'd be Felix Oswald Lapis," Bo chimed in, and then added proudly, "He's actually one of the biggest philotherians in Zootopia, everything from charities to youth centers to soup kitchens; you name it. As it so happens, I went to BU on the 'Lapis Scholarship'."

Of course Nick knew about Lapis, he'd be deaf & blind if he _didn't_ , "Ah yes, Bunnyburrow University," he recalled, "where you got your degree in nutrition."

"Yep, 'B the U that U can B!'" he recited, "I got the chance to meet him _face-to-face_ at a career fair, a real genuine sort of rabbit; he was the one that offered me an internship when I got out of the MMA."

"The MMA, _you_?" Phil snorted, and then guffawed, looking to Erym and pointing a thumb at Bo, "Can you imagine, _this_ guy in the Septagon?"

Bo's ears went pale and tucked behind his head, brow pinching as he seemed conflicted to which negative emotion he should express at the moment.

"Don't discount him so quickly," Nick interjected, "A bunny though he may be, he's no pushover. I've seen his strength firsthand, and all things considered, I'd say he stands a fighting chance." Bo's face lit up in grateful reverence.

"It ain't 'cause he's a bunny, it's 'cause he's a _bum_!" the goat snapped, "You got all those muscles but you ain't got _steel_! You think the MMA is a summer camp? Ya' wrestle around for a few weeks, and then off you go to your dream job at  Hexward?" The outburst almost caught Nick off guard, but it certainly glued Bo to his stool. "Yeah, you must be that 'Bo Briar' I heard about, gonna be the 'first bunny in the MMA'. Is that your reason to fight, gonna be some big bunny hero? Well, whoop-dee-doo, you'll get past the preliminaries on dumb luck and be steamrolled by a _real_ fighter with a _real_ reason to fight. I've seen would-bes _bigger_ & _stronger_ than you that couldn't go the distance because they didn't have the _heart_."

Nick awaited Bo's response, no intent to correct or hush him this time; it was _his_ reputation on the line, after all. However, Bo was neither indignant nor rueful, but starstruck. "I know who you are… you're Phil Octaves! Nick!" he turned to the fox and excitedly shook his shoulders, "I just got yelled at by _Phil Octaves_ , the legendary MMA trainer!"

"Shaddup, kid, I ain't no legend," he grumbled. Nick's head spun from the violent thrashing and braced himself against the bar, remembering the headache he experienced earlier by touching the side of his skull. Phil set a glass of cold water on a napkin for the fox. "If you know anything about me, you know not _one_ of my boys won a championship. The 'Cursed Coach' is what they called me, yeah, because whenever I got a fighter up to the final round, _some_ thing happened. Car accident, lawsuit, terminal disease, death in the family; pretty soon, the rookies were so scared something would happen to them, I couldn't get one to save my life."

"So," Nick said after a sip of water, "you retired and opened up a bar in Preds Corner?"

"What's it to _you_?" he grumped, and slung the rag over his shoulder, "Is that why you came by here, to mock an old goat about his past? I guess I _should_ be grateful, you two and Erym over there are the only customers I've had since everyone went on that sham-of-a-cruise."

"It was a 'cost-to-distance ratio'," Bo corrected, "and because there're less bunnies."

"Present company excluded," Nick grinned and socked Bo's shoulder, and then turned to Phil once more to discretely rub his sore knuckles, "Although I wouldn't mind asking you about a more recent & general past; let's say, I don't know, Mr. Lapis sending all the preds on that 'sham-of-a-cruise'. If you'll remember, Bo, Ms. Clara was 'envious' that the Greys were going, and my initial thought is that it was only them-"

"Yeah, well it _wasn't_ ," Phil interrupted, "It was _all_ the preds, but only those in Preds' Corner. You'd think with all his billions, he could afford to include the lot of us."

"Indeed," smirked the fox, "I'm lead to believe that Mr. Lapis wanted to use Preds' Corner as a temporary, _private_ town for whoever's behind those red banners. In terms of pred-tolerance, Bunnyburrow is leagues ahead of the other two major burrows, so it simply wouldn't do to have a bunch of preds walking around during the TBR. This wasn't a problem twenty years ago, but _nowadays_ , us preds are everywhere."

"Yeah, you must be that 'Nick Wilde' character, first fox cop in ZPD history," Phil said, "I s'pose you're here on official police business, _Officer_ Wilde?"

"Me? No, strictly off duty," Nick answered, and winked at Bo, _I'll need to be a bit more obvious with my subtlety around this rabbit_ , he realized, "I do love a good mystery, though, and while I figured out what the symbols _mean_ , I'm still in the dark on what they're all about." Nick sipped thoughtfully from his mug as the nearby bunny almost vibrated in anticipation, and quarter-turned to face him inquisitively, "Bo-?"

"It's the Trifecta of Blessings," burst the rabbit, "each representing one part of the Tri-Burrows. The hoof-&-foot is-"

"Cool yer jets, kid," Phil interrupted, aptly deflating Bo, and then turned to Nick, "You've heard of the ' _House_ of Blessings', right? They're the ones which decide what's lucky and what ain't. A buncha superstitious nonsense, if you ask me."

"Hey-!" Bo began indignantly, and was _not_ stopped by Nick's swift tail-swipe this time, but rather caught it with his foot and continued, "Those tenets were passed on for centuries, and there is historical _proof_ that its practices saved lives. It's what built the bond between horses and rabbits, after all, and every other mammal in Zootopia."

"Sorry, kid, I didn't realize it meant so much to ya'," he relented, and frowned, "I'm jus' an old, washed-up goat, after all, maybe I'm a bit jaded to things like 'luck'."

"Hey, c'mon, I didn't mean it like that, Mr. Octaves-"

"Call me 'Phil'."

"Right, sorry," Bo said, "I didn't mean it like that, Phil. You're a _great_ coach, the best the MMA's ever seen! Some mammals are lucky, and some aren't, it's just how things are. But look how many times you took rookies with _no_ hope and got them to the championship, despite your bad luck."

Phil stared blandly at him, and then scoffed a chuckle, "You're alright, kid."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Then… d'you suppose I could come by sometime for training-?"

"No."

"It was worth a shot," Bo sighed.

Half-past-noon sun flooded the bar as the door swung open; Nick squinted & reflexively flicked his sunglasses back over his eyes. He leaned around the bodybuilding bulk that was Bo and caught a glimpse of long-eared silhouettes walking in from the sidewalk; frowning, he returned to his drink, _Here we go._

"What a dump," said the lead rabbit, a butterscotch rabbit with dark coffee-colored spots between the ears, wearing a light jacket over a polo shirt. He scoffed at the interior, "Are you closing up early, gramps? Because _that_ 's an awful lot of empty space."

"It smells weird in here," said another rabbit.

"Hey, ya' mind closing the door?" Phil asked, "You're letting flies in."

The group, some four male bunnies, swaggered in and allowed the door to swing closed, "He doesn't even have the pool tables up," complained another rabbit.

"Hey Grav, isn't that 'Mr. Fox'?" asked the fourth rabbit.

"Ya'know, I think it _is_ ," answered 'Grav', walking up to where Nick & Bo sat at the stools with his paws in his pockets, "And what luck, he's got _Bo Branches_ with him, too. How ya' doin', Branches, still diggin' up rocks?"

Those at the bar remained still, the burlier rabbit begging for cues from the fox, but the former-hustler remained icier than his cider, which he sipped in the ensuing lapse of conversation; Bo followed suit. With an exaggerated sigh of satisfaction, he set his mug down with only a bit remaining, before he turned half-way about and reclined an elbow on the bar, one leg crossed over the other.

"My good gentlerabbits, I was wondering when you'd catch up," Nick began with a broad smile, and then gestured to Bo, whom fully spun around after draining his mug, attempting to copy Nick's casual position, "I was talking with my friend here about that charming group of yokels - excuse me, _locals_ \- following us through Preds Corner. You gave quite the chase, too, I was so sure we lost you after that drainage pipe."

"So, all those 'shortcuts' were-?" Bo began.

"A tour through town, of course," Nick quickly said with a wink, setting his sunglasses back up on his brow to do so, "They certainly kept pace despite running along fences and through alleys; wouldn't you agree, Bo?"

"Um, oh!" the larger rabbit realized, "You betcha, real athletes, they are."

"I don't know what yer talkin' about, fox, me & my buddies were on our way to Phil's," Grav shrugged, "It's a happy coincidence you were taking the same route as us, that's all. So how 'bout you and your boyfriend move over a few stools, so we won't have to split up the group?"

"Well, Mr. Briar & I were about to leave after I finished my drink," Nick explained, leaning back to reveal the remaining cider, "it'd be awful silly to move beforehand."

"I ask nicely and I get lip. Typical _fox_ ," he scoffed over his shoulder to his snickering buddies, "Look, I'm gonna ask again, but it's gonna be less nice this time. But ya'know what, I'm a patient rabbit, so I'm willing to give you the opportunity to reconsider your answer, now that you're a bit more knowledgeable of the situation you're in." Grav pulled his paws from his pockets and put them on his hips, casually holding the flaps of his jacket back to reveal a prominent rectangular bulge at the front of his trousers.

Nick, still smiling in his casual way, turned his back to them and chugged the rest of his cider. Leaning off his seat, he pulled out his wallet and set some bills on the bar for their drinks, and then spun around again to slide off; as he hoped, Bo also dismounted from his stool. "Hypothetically speaking," Nick said, taking a single step towards Grav with one paw pointing to the ceiling, and the other paw hanging by the thumb hooked into his waistband at the front, "I could beat a dumb bunny like you with one finger," and waggled the gesturing digit.

Grav closed the distance immediately and yanked NIck's face in by the necktie, "Who're you callin' a 'dumb bunny', _fox_?" The dark hatred in his eyes and the crimson anger in his ears drained pallor to the crackle of electricity from below his belt; whatever piss  & vinegar that was in him now soaked his slacks. The 'one finger' which Nick held up nudged Grav to fall back on the floor, gentle wisps of smoke rising from burn marks on his crotch.

"Dumb bunny reason #1: you keep a fully charged 'fox-taser' tucked into the front of your pants," Nick began, stooping over and tugging Grav's shirt to reveal the aforementioned item, which he carefully pulled out to remove the batteries, "Reason #2: you paid the extra money for a ' _fox_ -taser'," he continued, tossing the batteries onto the shallow-breathing, butterscotch rabbit, and setting the taser on the bar behind him, "Reason #3: you fell for an _obvious_ trap by stepping in close enough for me to activate said taser. If you have a weapon, _use_ it, before your opponent does."

The remaining three rabbits were neither amused nor deterred at the defeat of their leader. One reached into his jacket and pulled out a knuckleduster. Another flicked his wrist to the quick ' _shink'_ of a knife. The third, a larger rabbit, stood in back for a very specific reason, tapping the end of a metal bat along the hardwood floor as he walked around and shouldered the bludgeon. Phil ducked behind the bar some, keen eyes watching the conflict unfold; Erym, in his usual manner, remained disinterested on his favorite stool.

"Well, we _tried_ to find the middle ground," Nick said with a shrug and then exchanged glances with Bo; for the first time since they met, the nuance was understood. They both approached the trio calmly, walking around Grav's weak gasps towards the cleared floor, and did so in such a way that the group of rabbits split for a pincer position; the bat-wielder on Nick's side, and leaving the other two for Bo.

The fox continued walking in a wide arc around the bat-bun, almost waddling as he favored one foot and then the other, his bushy tail sweeping behind him prominently. As he suspected, the bat-bun's eyes caught sight of the tail, and yet tried to stay on Nick. _You're a strong one, ain't ya'?_ the fox grinned, and dove forward in a zig-zag as his tail spun like a propeller behind him, triggering the brutish rabbit's reaction to strike with all his might in a wild swing. The cudgel approached and, as the fox knew it would, grazed the fluff- &-flex of his tail, harmlessly throwing the rabbit off balance as Nick slipped by and outside the attack.

He reached inside the rabbit's forearm, turning on a dime to pivot and rake his claws along the flexor muscles, strong enough to relax them but not enough to cut the flesh. His other paw cradled the newly released grip, grabbing the handle of the bat and, using his tail for balance, swung around and behind the rabbit. Nick followed the momentum in a wide, spinning arc to collide the bat with the rabbit's skull, and his tail swept the rabbit's legs; the hooligan fell against the floor face-first like a ragdoll. At the academy Nick could not wrestle or box like the other cadets, but he excelled in a feint-&-disarming technique that even Judy herself could not yet counter.

Leaning on the bat like a cane, Nick turned to face Bo, and the result was exactly as he suspected: victorious & unscathed. With Bo's strength and reach, it was obvious from the first that he could take them each out with a single strike before they realized what happened. "How's it looking for you over there, Punch?" Nick asked.

"They bored me, _Gloves_ ," he shrugged, but grinned.

 _Cheeky_ , thought Nick, but grinned right back.

"I jus' swept this floor, and now there's bums all over it," Phil snorted.

"Want us to 'take out the trash', as it were?" Nick asked, nudging at a knocked-out rabbit with the tip of the bat.

"Nah-ah-ah, I know these punks, and I've got some calls to make about 'em," he bleated, "Hey you, Bo."

"Yes, sir?" he answered, ears up as he stepped over his defeated opponents.

"That wasn't _bad_ , but it wasn't good, either," he grunted, "Your footwork is sloppy and you leave yourself wide open with each attack. These bums are pathetic, so you got lucky this time."

"Well, y'see, I'm mostly self-taught-?"

"Maybe if you had _proper_ training, you might be halfway decent!"

Bo seemed at a loss, and glanced to Nick, who arched his brows and jerked his head at the broom to further prompt the rabbit.

"I don't suppose you've got an opening?" he asked, but added, "For a job, I mean. I could sweep, I'm fairly handy with tools, and I could keep out the riffraff."

" _You_? Keep out _riffraff_?" he guffawed once in mockery, "I'd have to keep a constant eye on you to make sure you're doing it _right_!"

"Great!" the rabbit beamed, "I can-"

"Start by moving these _bums_ out of the way and set my tables back in place!" he cut in.

Nick offered to help, but Phil wouldn't hear of it, pouring the fox another glass of bitter cider to keep him busy; they watched Bo singlehandedly reset the tavern to its full operational positioning at the harsh instruction from the goat.

"I don't think I've ever seen someone so happy at manual labor," Nick whispered.

"He's a good kid, lots of potential," Phil whispered back in a much more understanding tone, "but he needs to go through the fire and come out stronger, if ya' catch my drift. MMA is big leagues, ya'know, only the best make it through there, and he can't be the best with that soft head of his."

"And what about your 'curse'?" the fox smirked.

"That's peanuts to a rabbit's luck," scoffed the goat.

"Come on, Phil, you can't be serious."

"I can feel it in these stubby, old legs of mine, the kid's brimming with it."

"How d'you figure?" Nick asked.

"He knows you, don't he? I'd say that makes him the luckiest rabbit in the world."

Nick wasn't sure if the goat was sincere or not, so he took a moment to sip and ponder what kind of luck a fox could _possibly_ bring a bunny. It was at least an hour past noon by the time everything was back in place, and as Nick's second mug was emptied he made to pull out his wallet, but again, Phil wouldn't hear of it.

"It took him twenty minutes to do what I couldn't in twenty _hours_ over this past week; I can't accept payment for a third cider from you guys. And you," he said, pointing at Bo, "ya' barely broke a sweat after all that. Don't get cocky, kid, 'cause if you ain't sweatin', you ain't workin', and there's only work that gets done _here_."

"Yes sir, Phil," chimed the bunny.

"Looks like we're off, Punch," Nick smirked, pulling out his phone and checking a text message, "let's go see what crazy things girls do to their toes."


	21. Chapter 21

"Where are we meeting them?" Bo asked, donning his sunglasses after peeking over Nick's shoulder.

"At the Perk and Park, a few minutes' walk from here," Nick answered, setting his own shades in their place.

"No 'shortcuts' this time, Gloves?" the bunny asked wryly.

 _I'll make a proper fox out of you, yet,_ he smirked, "No need, our stalkers are currently indisposed of; that old goat is probably calling their parents right now."

"I can't believe that Grav's still around," Bo grumbled, fists audibly clenching, "and still such a _jerk_ , too."

"Sounds like you and he have history," Nick speculated.

"Yeah, you could say that…"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but is he the same bunny that bullied you and Gideon?"

"You heard about that, huh?"

"Bits and pieces, here and there."

"He's always been a jerk, ever since Woodlands," Bo huffed, and then added, "that was our grade school. But yeah, Grav Hopps, you were either with him, or you were less than dirt."

"Grav _Hopps_?"

"Different Hopps than Judy; at least I think so, anyway. There's probably some distant relation, but I never asked about it," Bo's face softened as he continued, "Judy was one of the few bunnies that stood up to him, that didn't get taken in by his honeyed words; he even had most of the adults thinking him some _perfect_ little angel, but us kids knew better."

 _These are the markers of a manipulative sadist, not some punk with a fox-taser tucked in his drawers. I might've fallen for a trap myself, if that's the case,_ Nick dreaded, _No, he'd have tucked that taser into someone else's drawers and sent_ them _forward. Still, he's not done with me, I'd bet my tail on it_. "Making friends; every day, making friends," the fox said in a lazy sing-song tone.

"Don't worry, Gloves, we won't come after _us_ again anytime soon. Heck, he didn't go near Gideon for a _week_ after getting his teeth punched in."

"Such carefree optimism; I remember when I was like that."

"What, do you think he'll be out for revenge, or something?"

" _I_ would be, if I were him," Nick instructed, "Bullies _never_ leave the playground, Bo, that is far too much power and control to leave behind with so arbitrary a limiting factor as _age_ ; they either reform into productive members of society, like Gideon, or they turn downright malicious, like Grav. He followed us for a _reason_ , but never got the chance to say what it was, so you can bet folding money he'll turn up again."

"That was like a warning, then?" Bo realized.

"One that did _not_ go his way," Nick smirked, "but I think I see our fair maidens o'er yonder, so try not to mention the little scuffle."

Indeed, there sat Esther and Judy with colorful bubble teas on the patio outside of the Perk and Park Cafe, leaning over the vixen's phone for some reason or another. Judy's ear sprung at their approach, and Esther stashed her device.

"Hi guys, I hope you didn't have _too_ much fun without us?" Judy asked, pivoting in her seat and crossing one leg over the other, nonchalantly showing off her newly painted, vividly rosy-red toe-claws.

"Oh, wow," Bo said immediately, stopping and stooping to get a better look, even cradling them with care in his massive paws; Nick made his way around to sit adjacent to Esther and slung his arm over the back of a chair.

"Mine aren't too shabby, either," she said, looking down at her wiggling toes.

He tilted his head and glanced, smiling politely, "Yes, I daresay that's some fine handiwork on the part of the pedicurist, but it's hard to tell from all the way down there." Esther leaned slightly back to raise her foot impeccably, until the glittery-purple toe-claws were eye level and almost touching his nose. "Hmm…" Nick continued, studying the foot with an appraiser's eye, bracing the ball of her sole and the heel with the tips of his fingers, "Ahh yes, an excellent shade of violet sprinkled with subtle sparkle; quite reminiscent of a _particular_ kind of shorts worn by Gazelle's dancers."

"I'm something of a fan," admitted Esther, "I wore my bangs the same as hers for the longest time."

"Indeed, but that's not all," he continued, walking his fingers down to her ankle, and then her calf, earning quiet giggles along the way, "Take careful note of the taut muscle and firm arch; these are the legs of not only a jogger, hiker, and swimmer, but also those of a _kickboxer_."

"For fun and exercise," she said as Nick returned her foot.

"Bobo, why are your knuckles all scuffed?" Judy quietly broke in, passively sniffing the air, and then sat up to sniff around his mouth. Nick's fur stood on end as she threw down the larger rabbit's paws, not due to any surprise of her restrained fury, but in the realization that Judy's claim-to-fame in the precinct was reading trouble on a perp like a fortune teller read Tarot cards, "Were you in a _bar fight_?"

"But Nick-!" Bo started.

"Turncoat!"

"Nick!" both femmes turned on the fox.

"It was self defense!" he pleaded.

"You're supposed to be a _cop_ , Nick!" Judy fumed.

"We're gone for _one hour_ and you get into a _brawl_?" Esther accused.

"Bo and I were enjoying our drinks in peace, and then some punk came at me with a fox-taser," Nick explained, "What was I _supposed_ to do?"

"One had a baseball bat, another had a kni-... umm… _knuckle_ dusters, these guys were armed and _looking_ for trouble," Bo added.

"Why were you in some _seedy_ bar in the first place?" Judy demanded.

"We were trying to get away from that _very_ group of ruffians," Nick explained, "they followed us from the restaurant, even though we went endeavored to lose them. Isn't that right, Bo?"

"Y-yeah!" nodded the rabbit.

"So you beat them up? Are they _okay_?" the vixen also demanded.

"Are _they_ okay, what about us?"

"They wanted us dead for _no_ reason whatsoever," Bo insisted.

"One probably has a concussion, and I think the other guy's still in shock," Nick carefully elaborated. Bo couldn't help but snicker before the fox swatted his shoulder with a flick of the wrist, "The other two got the wind knocked out of them, but they should also be fine."

"And it's not like _we_ started it; he tried being civil about it," the brown bunny said, pointing to the fox. The girls were still visibly irate about the whole thing. Bo, bless his heart, tried to soften the situation the only way he knew how, "Nick was really cool about it, too," he cheered, thus focusing both of their attentions on him and his eager self; shrinking back some, Bo trailed off at the end of his statement, "he used their own weapons on them, and that's how it started."

"You used your feint-disarm technique?" Judy asked, ears up and looking to Nick intently, uncrossing her arms to lean on the table some, "How'd it work? I mean, clearly it worked, but how'd it feel in a _real_ fight?"

"Judy, we're still mad at them."

"Well, yeah, of course we are," she agreed, "I've wanted to see his technique in action ever since he got out of the academy, but Nick can't exactly go _into_ a Howler Den, so I don't have a lot of chances to catch it outside of sparring matches."

"Am I the _only_ one here still taking this seriously?" Esther challenged, "If they ever decide to press charges, it'll be a _firestorm_ of hearsay testimony. Maybe one of them belongs to a powerful Bunnyburrow resident, or worse, a powerful _out-of-townee_? This could mean _huge_ trouble for you, for the ZPD, for that seedy bar you went to-"

"Phil's isn't 'seedy'," Nick insisted, "it's quite a respectable place."

"Oh good, you have the name of the establishment, at least," scoffed the vixen.

"And the 'punk' who got tased with his own taser," Bo said, and then leaned in and whispered, "It was _Grav_!"

" _Grav_?" Esther asked in tangible disbelief.

"Grav _Hopps_?" Judy asked, for sake of clarification.

"You threw down with Grav and you didn't _invite_ me?" Esther huffed in a moment of lapsed composure, "I'm even _more_ peeved, now; what I'd give to kick _him_ out of the gene pool!"

"Well, not to dig myself a deeper hole, Cherries, but I might've stolen your thunder," Nick shrugged and smiled apologetically, "I didn't use the taser on him, _per se_ , it was more like he had the thing stuffed down the front of his pants and I turned it on."

The ambient noise of the cafe and the street drifted like a mist through the airy silence that followed the fox's description. The faces of both girls scrunched and lips curled back as they exchanged knowing glances, paws covering the mouth or bracing the forehead as their shoulders shook in restrained laughter.

"Oh, my gosh-" whined Judy.

"You _didn't_ -" Esther choked back.

"Right in the-?" snickered the bunny.

"I mustn't laugh at the pain of others-" the vixen breathed.

Nick glanced at Bo, whom bit on his knuckle as he caught the contagious laughter. Smirking, the fox suddenly grabbed his own crotch to make crackling electricity noises, jostling in his chair to mimic the act of being electrocuted. The others at the table were, in all their maturity, only able to restrain their uproar of merriment by a slim margin.

"Nick, you're terrible-!" Judy wheezed, grabbing her ears with her forehead to the table, snickering still.

"I _mustn't_ laugh at the pain of others-!" Esther cried through a clenched jaw, clutching her sides as he shook with bottled giggles.

Bo clapped his paws over his mouth to laugh into his palms, glanced at Nick, and winked.

 _...Well spotted, Punch, well spotted_ , Nick loosed his most convincing guffaw and leaned back in his chair, huffing softly and wiping away a nonexistent tear, _After all, who doesn't like to share in a laugh?_ He waited until the stifling calmed and the other side of the table managed to breath normally once more. "I wouldn't be too worried about any legal issues, Cherries," Nick said through a chuckle, "We have two witnesses who saw the whole thing: Phil, the owner, and a boar named 'Eyrm'. Plus, I'm sure I spotted a security camera in the corner of the ceiling. _If_ Grav decides to come forward, which I sincerely doubt, we have all the evidence we need to prove that _he_ was the instigator, and that Bo and I acted in self defense."

"We're still mad you two got in a bar fight," Judy asserted, but smirking some.

"We're glad you're both okay, though," Esther agreed with a sigh of relief. It seemed the two were waiting for the right moment to reveal it.

"So, Esther," Bo spoke up as the tension loosed to a more manageable level, ears forward, "you're a kickboxer? I thought I saw the fighter's poise in you."

"I don't 'fight' though, outside of sparring with my instructor," the vixen grinned, "I find it's a _bit_ more cathartic than yoga."

"Not as cathartic as a good laugh, though," Judy giggled.

"That was terrible of us to laugh, it's really not that funny," Esther insisted through a snicker.

"Oh _please_ , it's about time someone put that playboy in his place. He struts around Bunnyburrow like he owns it," she then smirked deviously as she sipped more of her tea, "He won't get to use his favorite pickup line anymore, though."

"What 'pickup line'?" Bo asked, brow furrowed.

"About how he'd make 'beautiful children'. He used it on _me_ more than a few times- Bo?" she said, looking at the rabbit rising from the table.

"Hold-" Nick quickly reached up and grabbed the back of said rabbit's shirt-collar.

"I'm jus' gonna go punch him in the-!"

"Cool your jets," the fox instructed, "he wouldn't feel it anyway."

"He'll go after anything that breathes, it's absolutely _disgusting_ ," huffed Esther, and then shivered, "The little sicko tried it on _me_ once; I felt like I needed a hot shower- Nick?"

"Let's go, Bo," Nick resolved while standing from the table, releasing the rabbit's shirt at an affirming grunt.

" _No_ ," Judy commanded, "because Bo and I have a lot of work to catch up on. My parents need all the help they can get with the TBR officially starting _tomorrow_. They let us have yesterday and today, but I think their patience is running a _little_ thin."

"And _we_ should check in on Gideon, Blue, I'm sure he wouldn't mind someone keeping him company," Esther said.

"Bah," scoffed Nick, pulling out his sunglasses to flick them open and gesture in a haphazard sweep at Judy and Esther, "Girls and their _rationality_. My dear Punch, it looks as though our paths must part, so I entrust Judy in totality to _you_." He grinned and slid his shades onto his snout with a single, communicative wink.

"You can count on me, Gloves," the rabbit said, pulling his glow-in-the-dark sunglasses from a pocket, and by some fluke, flicked his wrist to don them in a single fluid motion. There were no cognitive gears this time, only a simple, satisfying click which the fox, if he were entirely honest with himself, enjoyed most of all.

"We're going to the same place, drama queen," snarked Judy, adjusting the classy frames on her nose, "Ms. Clara offered to come pick us up on the outskirts of Preds' Corner."

"Does she live nearby?" Nick asked, _If so, she'd be another prey denied an affordable vacation on the cruise ship. Although, all things considered, it turned out for the better that she stayed._

"Not _really_?" Judy shrugged as the group ventured out towards the sidewalk, she and Esther tossing their empty cups in the trash, "She comes here often enough, though, so it's not out of her way."

As Nick suspected, he was practically invisible to the passing bunnies on the street with his sunglasses on, and as best he could figure, so were the shades-wearing rabbits. "Before I forget, Ca-," he began, and cleared his throat, _Nicknames are all well and good, but I'm not pushing my luck with all these visiting bunnies hopping about_ , and pointed up to one of the scarlet banners hanging from a streetlamp, "Judy, what's the story behind these?"

"Those?" she asked, glancing over her rims at the overhead display, and smiled warmly, beginning to explain before addressing the larger, eager bunny, "An integral part of rabbit history, right Bo?"

"The Trifecta of Blessings," he began, in appropriate pomp, "Represents each of the three major burrows: the hoof-and-foot crest is Bunnyburrow, the oldest and _largest_ of the three; it was the first established safe-haven for rabbits in Zootopia."

"It was built with the the cooperative efforts of horses and bunnies," Judy continued, "rumored to spark the initial bonds of modern respect and luck for mammals everywhere; with the bunnies' skill in agriculture and the horses' strength, they thrived through the darkest times of recorded history."

"It's believed that this bond, as well as the bond between lions and zebras, is what built the foundation of trust for Zootopia," Bo concluded.

Nick gave a curious grunt as he looked up at the banner, raising his phone to catch a picture of it as they headed out of Preds' Corner, "Learn something new everyday."

"That one represents a burrow which is actually part of the city itself," Judy continued, glancing over at Nick's phone and pointing to the symbol that, she explained, was "two blackbirds perched on a windowsill. It's the Knotash crest, the 'House of Blessings', which along with the Hexward Tenets (that's the last symbol), is the acting authority on the teachings of luck in Zootopia."

 _If you believe in stuff like that_ , the fox pondered, recalling Bo's defense of it back at the bar, "I thought the third burrow was 'Deerbrooke'?" Nick asked.

"It is," Bo agreed, "It's still got plenty of bunnies in it, though, mostly hares; I'm from Deerbrooke, but I don't remember much of it since I left when I was really little. The symbol is a stag's antlers etched on a shield," he put his thumbs behind his ears and splayed his fingers to pantomime a set of deer's horns, but was quickly corrected for such a socially sensitive gesture by a single throat-clearing from Judy, "For protection against _dark magic_ , thus, 'hex ward'."

"I always thought it looked like a fox's face."

Bo grunted in thought, "I don't see it."

"See, that's the nose, there are the ears," Nick pointed out, "Still 'No'?"

"So which came first, Hexward or Deerbrooke?" Esther asked, climbing up onto a collection a boulders not too far from the road that lead from Preds' Corner to Bunnyburrow proper; a shady sapling grew between the stony cluster with a crooked trajectory, but the four found it a fine place to wait for their ride.

"The Hexward Tenets were around almost as long as bunnies and horses have been working together," Judy answered, "Accounts differ, but it's said to have started as a barn-based, bunny-run apothecary in the woods where Deerbrooke is today."

"A barn for the acorn farm, was it?" teased Nick.

"Well, 'barn'," she quoted with a flick of her fingers, "it was more likely a safe house where they kept supplies and housed any mammals too big for the rabbits' warrens."

"Hexward Pharmaceuticals uses a variation of the Deerbrooke crest because that's where Felix Lapis and Mr. Stagmire are both from," Bo continued.

"The 'Miracle Makers' themselves," Nick gesticulated, "Made a tidy fortune, they did, with a veritable Renaissance of modern medicines less than a few decades ago, including a personal favorite of mine: an allergy pill that kept the fox-flu _mostly_ manageable."

"No need to brag about it, Blue," smirked Esther with a roll of her eyes, "That stuff was _expensive_ out here in the sticks back then, so we sufficed with good old fashioned grit and home remedies. 'What doesn't kill you', as they say."

"Only giving credit where credit is due, plus, I like to hear myself talk," assured Nick, but spoke quickly, "For example, Buckley Stagmire sold his personal shares in the company to run as Assistant Mayor to Lionheart in their first campaign; before his nerve paralysis made it _impossible_ to hold office, anyway. They did rather well in their single term, many say, I know _I_ enjoyed an upturn in business," he smirked, and then pondered his punchline aloud, "We _really_ don't have the best of luck with mayors in Zootopia, do we?"

"How long have you been holding onto that one?" Judy scoffed.

"All year."

"Before we get into politics, let's finish our talk on religion," Esther reprimanded her fellow fox, before turning to the bunnies, "What's 'fortuna regente'? I must've found a dozen different meanings from Zoogle."

"Oh, _that_ ," scoffed Judy with dismissive wave, "It's a quaint phrase, more offhanded if anything."

"We could argue for _days_ what its original intent was," shrugged Bo, "The devout say 'guided by blessings'."

"And the cynic says 'ruled by luck'," Judy continued.

"At the risk of stirring anything up, what do _you_ say?" Nick asked both bunnies.

"We make our own luck," she smiled, and leaned into Bo.

"We respect the basic tenets," he continued, putting an arm around Judy, "but we keep it in the realm of common sense."

"If I break a mirror, I'm gonna clean it up and get a new one," Judy explained.

"And walking under a ladder is un _safe_ , not un _lucky_. Whoever is working up there might drop something, or an unattended ladder could fall at the littlest nudge," Bo elaborated.

"Wishing someone 'good luck' means you'll hope things go their way."

"And that right there's the important part: respect and love for others."

Esther smiled contentedly as the bunnies took turns talking, "It sounds like you two gave this a great deal of thought."

"And what about Phil, the 'Cursed Coach'?" Nick asked pointedly at Bo.

"That's… different," the rabbit began, "It's the weirdest thing, and there are conspiracy theories all over the MMA forums about it, but there's _nothing_ connecting all the stuff that happens to his fighters. 'Bad luck' is the only way to explain it, for lack of anything better."

"Phil Octaves?" Judy asked, "I thought he disappeared _years_ ago?"

"Oh, right!" Bo said, reminded of his excitement, "He's the 'Phil' _of_ Phil's, and he's gonna train me… err, rather, he's going to _hire_ me," he then winked at Nick, "and maybe I might get some extra training in on the side."

"He's been in Preds' Corner all this time?" she said incredulously, and then pointed at Nick with a smirk, "And _you_ happened to stumble into his bar on the _one_ day you hang out with Bo?" Nick simply shrugged and rolled his eyes in dramatic self-amusement.

The earthen-brown rabbit suddenly reached up and grabbed Nick in a headlock, yanking him down to drill a noogie into his skull; much thrashing ensued, "Yep, he's my lucky fox!"

" _No_ , he's my 'lucky fox' because I found him first!" Judy declared, and noogied a different part of his head while tugging an ear.

"Esther, help! Call the police!" he struggled, to which the vixen could only hold her sides in fits of laughter, "Fox abuse, fox abuse!"

"Okay, you two, cut it out," she giggled, and then when Nick was set back on his boulder, quickly leaned up to touch her nose to the sensitive fuzzy spot between his ear and cheek, "Because he's _my_ 'lucky fox'."

Nick's ears flared brilliant scarlet as his composure flickered for a single instant, before they relaxed back; he straightened his tie to face her, but was glancing between her and the bunnies, "Madam, _please_ , we are in polite company and it simply wouldn't _do_ , unmated foxes that we are," he said in a playful, proper tone.

The vixen cleared her throat, said "Right" with a bashful smile and pinned back her own scarlet ears, trying in vain to tuck a bang behind one. Judy gave her a _significantly_ knowing smile, which Esther attempted to stare down.

"Right," Nick said with a quick snap of his fingers to gather the attention of those in earshot, "Last question, I swear: these 'Knotash, the House of Blessings' and 'The Hexward Tenets', does it say anything in their bylaws about keeping the company of a fox, versus keeping the company of fox _es_?" Esther leaned in curiously, remembering that part of their conversation from earlier.

"Umm…" Bo considered, brow furrowing to the gentle machinations of cognitive gears, and then scratched his head as though it could further the process along, "N-… oh, maybe? There was something I read, a long time ago, that 'seeing a fox was good luck'…"

"So far, so good," Judy chimed in.

"...But something else about how, specifically, 'a _family_ of foxes was bad luck'," he recalled with a dumbfounded shrug, "I mean, you'd think it'd work one way or the other, but not _both_. Sounds totally made up, right?"


	22. Chapter 22

At long last, Ms. Clara's pickup truck drove off the dirt road and onto pavement, giving those riding in the bed much needed relief from wayward dust and the odd bump. Nick insisted on squatting, with a dual death grip of rope anchored at both ends to the truck's bed-frame, at least until they reached a "reasonable speed".

"Your first time in a farmyard pickup, Gloves?" Bo teased, comfortably seated with his arms slung over the tailgate.

"My first time riding with Ms. Clara," answered Nick, _Judy drives worse than this, but for crying out loud, at least the police cruiser has seatbelts._

Esther stood with her palms on the cab's roof, smiling as her bangs whipped around her face, sunglasses resting as near her eyes as was bearable. When the elderly bison first arrived, the vixen was doted upon and greeted, but she clearly appreciated when Judy offered to sit in the cab with Ms. Clara.

It occurred to Nick that it was perhaps _he_ who should have taken the front seat, rather than risk life  & limb in the back of an unsecured pickup truck, but he foolishly accepted an unspoken challenge from Bo, and immediately regretted it. _I've taught him too well,_ Nick lamented, however glad that he wasn't prone to car sickness. Perhaps it was better that Judy sat with Ms. Clara, though, since it was she who needed to convince the old bison not to talk about their involvement with Gideon's whipped cream; he likely _could_ , but it was a razor's edge to keep a secret which could so easily slip and loose the floodgates of awkward questions. _No, Judy knows her better, she'll handle it_ , Nick reasoned, placing all trust he could muster into his partner; whatever trust not already invested in the rope twined around his wrists, that is.

Even Bo's introspection wasn't enough to quell the fox's fear of bouncing out of the truck's bed, and soon voiced his realization, "Now that I think about it, there was something 'lucky' about having the 'hair of a goat's beard' in your pocket. Can you imagine, walking up to someone and plucking fur off their face for a good luck charm? I guess that's why he yelled at those kids, huh?"

"It actually lends to the idea of what kind of bunnies we're dealing with at this Reunion," Nick reasoned through the occasional clenched jaw, "and reminds me of a conversation I had with Gideon this morning about iron-root trees. Esther," he said, looking up to the casually standing vixen, whom braced with such nonchalant grace at each turn & bump, _I might swoon from awe or terror, Ms. Grey, maybe both_ , "are you familiar with the paradoxical concept of the low-tech society inside Knottedwood, living in such close proximity to the outstandingly _modern_ city of Zootopia?"

"Definitively," she said with a smile, sitting down to address the stressed fox, "Ma says it's how they want to live, though; so long as it doesn't hinder anyone else, what's the harm?"

"I only mention it as a thought exercise," he continued, reflexively gesturing with his paws only to grab hold of the rope even tighter.

"If you want, I can ask Ms. Clara to slow down a smidge," Esther offered.

" _No_ , thank you," Nick insisted as politely as he could, catching the hint of well-earned smugness on Bo's face; he countered with his own confident grin, "I've gone through worse than this. Anyway, back to the topic at hand. Unless I'm sorely mistaken, the foxes of Knottedwood and the rabbits practicing the Hexward Tenets are _similar_ in the idea that they are… well, I won't say 'antiquated' or 'rustic', I'm sure their communities are delightfully modern in their own way, but they are a microcosm of much more… _traditional_ ideologies, which, I believe, is what sets them apart-" He relaxed as he spoke, as was his way, and further relaxed as the truck evened out on a nice straightway. Per his habit, he gestured to enunciate the exposition, forgetting for a crucial instant the very real fear of being thrown from the bed of the truck; as the road turned sharp to run parallel along the fenced-off treeline, and the truck found a particularly nasty bump in the road, Nick cleared both the side of the bed and the fence in his trajectory. Suffice to say, there was quite a bit of yelling involved.

This was not the same part of the woods he & Esther walked through earlier that day. No, that part was surely at sea level, while Nick face-planted in the foliage at least some several feet below. It took the fox a few moments to gather his wits after coming to; it was clear that not only was he thrown from the truck, but also down a steep slope and by some miracle, hit _none_ of the overhead roots on his way into soft mulch. Regardless, his head throbbed with pain and a dull ringing, but he managed to check for any open wounds.

 _No blood_ , he wondered, _but I'm sure I'll have a nasty bump or bruise somewhere on this noggin of mine. I want to think this is simply another sinus headache, if it didn't feel like it combined with both a migraine and a hangover, which is perfect, by the way; I guess I should be grateful I'm conscious at all._ He groaned while rubbing both sides of his head, breathing slowly, deeply, and trying to sit up. _It's dark here, yet it was still the early afternoon last I checked. Was I out for a few hours? No, can't be, otherwise there'd be sirens or bright lights from whatever rescue they called in._ Looking about, it felt like he was in some kind of grotto beneath the trees, and his eyes had a problem adjusting to the lack of light. _Even better, I knocked out my night vision. Okay, need to let them know I'm alive,_ he thought with a flick of his thumb, unfortunately his phone had, as Esther might say, 'gone all nuts'. _Great, stupendous, I'm near some iron-roots, or whatever they are_. He growled, inhaling through a harshly clenched jaw at particularly painful throb, _I wouldn't mind this so much if it at least made sense!_

"-sil!"

 _Huh?_

"Bas-!"

 _Dawson?_ He looked up and about, flashes of dull green  & red flickering about his vision, but any attempt to focus on his hallucination scattered it like an out-of-tune TV. It wasn't the time to go crazy, but even if it was only his own mind he welcomed the chance to talk to someone. "There must be Night Howler pollen in here after all," he said aloud, and the sound of his own voice seemed to echo quiet & weak, as though his ears were plugged.

"Bas...il!" Dawson said again, but Nick could only hold his head between his knees, groaning louder as he raked his claws across his head in frustration. _Oh_ , he considered, and raked his claws again, softer, finding that it helped a little bit. The margin of relief was enough, breathing in through his nose with a deep inhale, and out of his mouth in a slow exhale to the rhythmic combing. He glanced up, and Dawson's visage was still like static, but flickered to someone slimmer, and any sound was only a scattered fuzz. The pain between his ears remained, but he watched whatever his subconscious wanted to show him in pure desperation, disregarding the protests of his waking mind.

It was Esther, crouched with a comforting smile that moved to syllables he couldn't yet place. Her well-lit image didn't match with the surrounding gloom, and it looked as though she wasn't wearing his purple shirt this time, but his mother's floral dress, the one from when they went to lunch on Friday; she even wore the short-brimmed hat, tilted back so he could see her blue eyes. Her mouth continued to move, and he soon recognized what were the sounds of the song she sang earlier that day, the same song his Mom sang when he was a kit. As he remembered more of the song, even some lyrics tucked away in his childhood, the static cleared and her voice rang as a quiet bell, scattering the pain and the grotto's harsh darkness. He sighed with welcome relief, rubbing behind, about, and inside his ears.

"Thanks," he said softly, to which she smiled softly in response; he found that his voice no longer hit his ears in that weak echo, but in the normal tone, "As you probably know, being my subconscious and all, Mom sang that song when I had the fox-flu, too, but I guess I never connected it like you or Gideon would. I'll have to remember that the next time I have a headache, and to _not_ readily discount psychosomatic treatments."

He stood to dust off the forest floor that accumulated from his head down to his toes, and then finished with a straightening of his tie. There stood Esther in his Mom's dress, but alongside Gideon in his Dad's tailoring outfit, complete with vest, jacket, and glasses. "Okay, I'll need some help on this one," he admitted cynically, wagging his finger at the stouter, smiling, shrugging fox.

"Nick?" cried Judy's voice in a distant, desperate plea.

"Judy!" he called back through cupped paws, his hallucinations returned to the back of his mind.

"Nick!" she called again, "Are you hurt? Can you walk?"

He glanced around at the dim grotto and realized how far down he really was, nearly ten or eleven feet below where he could make out the crest of the steep slope. "I'm okay!" he called up at a long-eared silhouette peeking through the gap in the roots, likely near the beginning of the path he flew, "Give me a minute, I think I can climb out!" he claimed, _Hypothetically speaking, anyway._

"I see him!" came Esther's voice.

Nick looked up at a less-long-eared silhouette, and then called out, "I'll be right up!" He walked towards the slope directly beneath the small hole of light, and took a moment to study the winding roots. Nick found he was surer-footed if he imagined _how_ he'd traverse a particularly precarious terrain; it helped him give Grav  & his goons a chase through Preds' Corner (thankfully, Bo's own athletic prowess & bunny-agility allowed him to keep pace), and in the numerous times he & Finnick had to escape hostilities via the 'secret pathways' of Zootopia. The grotto was no different, except that in the darkness he found he could imagine his path a little clearer than in bright light, _Ahh, the eyes of a 'skulker',_ the fox mused _._

He took a running start and leapt onto the coils of some winding roots, getting his claws into the wood to hoist himself up. Indeed, his police training once more proved useful through the cultivation of lean muscle and stamina; since he was not being chased or otherwise inconvenienced, he could take his time to envision his climb from one arching root cluster to the other. Until he thought he saw something whisk by in the dimness below, and felt his fur stand on end. Wary of the forest floor, he tugged onto some long, rope-like roots to test their strength, and continued his ascent… if a bit quicker than he initially intended.

"I've got him!" called Bo's voice. Indeed, as soon as Nick jostled the natural rope, he was drawn up like a bucket from a well and yanked out by the collar of his shirt.

"Nick!" sobbed Judy & Esther, launching themselves on him to embrace.

"Ohhh!" bawled Ms. Clara, throwing herself to her knees and wrapping her arms about Nick, Judy, and Esther. Great tears poured down her cheeks as she apologized, doted, and promised never to speed again, all in a tumult of simultaneous statements.

"Ladies, please, you can't get rid of me _that_ easily," he assured.

Judy & Bo gave him a once-over physical inspection, she with her knowledge of police procedure concerning trauma victims, and he with his knowledge of how to recognize workout-related injuries like sprains or twists. Meanwhile, Esther tried her best to calm down Ms. Clara, whom seemed convinced that she killed Nick with her reckless driving. As far as breaks went even his sunglasses were unharmed, which he put back on his face in the early afternoon sunlight.

"I shouldn't have challenged you like that, Nick, but I wanted to impress you because I thought you'd think better of me if I could be clever," Bo said.

 _An odd thing to apologize for, it's not like he pushed me from the truck bed or anything._

"I should've known better than to take the front seat, Nick, because you're always so jumpy whenever I drive but I let you sit back there anyway," Judy said.

 _Look, I chose to sit in the back of the unsecured pickup truck, so that's on me._

"I should've told Ms. Clara to slow down, Nick, but I didn't want you to think less of yourself because you didn't think you could handle it," Esther said.

 _That… where is this coming from, anyway?_

"Ground control to Nick, do you read me?" came Judy's voice with a few snaps of her fingers, and Nick's vision burst open with a blinding light as he felt the sunglasses pulled from his face, causing the fox to wince before she put the sunglasses back on. "You spaced out for a solid minute there, plus your pupils are dilated," she explained, "I don't think it's anything serious, but we should get you to a doctor, just in case."

"No no no, I'm fine," insisted Nick, _Yep, that's Night Howler pollen, that is_ , "I only need to get my wits about me, is all; I'm nothing without my wits."

"Alright, but you _need_ to take it easy, Slick, at the speed you went flying, it's a miracle your neck isn't broken," she said, feeling behind his jaw.

"It's not the first time I was thrown from a speeding vehicle, and if I have anything to say on the matter, it won't be the last."

"How's the patient, Sweet Tea?" asked Esther.

"His snark levels are dangerously high, but I'm afraid if _that_ didn't knock some manners into him, I don't know _what_ will."

"My snark took _years_ to build up," boasted Nick as he rose to his feet, "It'll take more than a little plummet into certain doom to break it."

After several minutes Ms. Clara was once more in a state to resume driving, but wouldn't go _any_ where unless everyone was buckled up inside the cab. While sharing a seatbelt was _technically_ frowned on in the city of Zootopia, out in Bunnyburrow the restrictions were a bit more laxed, so the smaller mammals could take advantage of the bison-sized seating arrangements without worrying about the present law enforcement. It was a bit cramped, admittedly, but everyone was securely fastened. Nick  & Esther were in the middle, with Esther closest to Ms. Clara, while Judy & Bo took the window seat, on account of Bo's broad shoulders, whom leaned on the armrest.

"Well, that was exciting," Nick said, closing a water bottle after a quick drink and putting it in the nearby cup holder, "Now then, what was I talking about before I so rudely interrupted myself?"

"The aerodynamic properties of foxes?" suggested Judy with a grin.

"Oh, Judy," pouted Ms. Clara, "it's not really a joking matter, is it?"

"On the contrary," the fox said, "Aside from what my Dad will do to me when he finds out what happened to this shirt, no serious physical harm came of it. Besides, I think the _gravity_ of a situation is softened if one _wood_ but laugh at their own _fallings_." Each pun elicited another tittering giggle from the elderly bovine which, aided by some supplemental laughter from the audience, visibly relaxed Ms. Clara until she sank back into her seat from her previous spinal rigidity. Discretely, Nick  & Judy exchanged a fistbump.

"Oh, lookie; shouldn't be too much longer, now," the cow reported, noticing the fairgrounds.

Nick craned his neck to get a good look out the window, "Remarkably empty for the biggest event in a generation."

"Oh ho ho," Ms. Clara tittered, "Of course, how silly of me; the TBR isn't held in the same place as the Carrot Days Festival, my dear, it's _much_ too big for that."

"In that case, I have another city-fox question: where _is_ the TBR being held?"

"I keep forgetting you're not from here, Nick," apologized Judy, "After the centennial celebration thirty-one years ago, the following TBR was moved to Horseshire, since it's the only place in Bunnyburrow with enough space to hold all the festivities."

"Next city-fox question:-"

"As you know," Judy interrupted, "Bunnyburrow was started by horses and rabbits, which back in the day were nomads and gatherers, respectively. When they settled the land, they established farms for the bunnies and ranches for the horses."

"I _see_ ," speculated Nick, "and the likely reason why Horseshire is a part of Bunnyburrow - but not vice versa - is because the name was chosen _democratically_."

"Top of the class, Slick," smirked Judy.

"I think it's safe to say this'll be the first TBR for everyone present," Esther remarked with a hint of glee, and then looked to Ms. Clara, "With a single exception, of course. What was _your_ first TBR like?"

"Oh goodness, that was _decades_ ago, my strawberry shortcake," she said to Esther, but seemed happy enough to recall it, "I was in my teenaged years, always a tumultuous time, and the TBR was still held at the fairgrounds back then. It was simply _magical_ , and though I didn't know it yet, it was where I met my future mate, rest his soul…" She grew solemn and wistful a moment, idly driving, "And then at the Centennial, I was allowed to be part of the festivities with my own booth; what a _thrill_ it was. We - my mate  & I with our twin girls - volunteered at the next TBR, but there was a waiting list! I wasn't lucky enough to get on it, nor on this year's; 'such is life', as they say," she tittered, "That's why I'm _so_ happy to know that your brother will be using _my_ cream for his pies."

"According to my parents," Judy began, "the TBR planners were _very_ restrictive to who they let participate; the festivities were open to the public, of course, but the booths were meant for family members or very close friends."

"So, how'd Gideon get into such an exclusive selection?" Nick asked, "The TBR doesn't strike me as the type to tout 'First Fox Vendor'."

"Come on, Blue, have a little faith in the acceptance of bunnies," chided a smirking Esther, but then spoke to both him and Judy, "Maybe Stu & Bonnie got him in, like they did with the bakery?"

"They were as surprised about it as anyone," admitted Judy, "Don't get me wrong, the whole Hopps farm is happy as can be for him; it's a big step towards the betterment of rabbit/fox relations."

"Were they really?" asked Ms. Clara, "With your grandfather on the TBR board, I figured Bonnie convinced him to bring Gideon on?"

"Wait," Judy said, "Grandpa Reggie is on the TBR board? Since _when_?"

"Oh, since _always_ , my little honey suckle; at least as far as _I_ can remember. I saw him once back when I volunteered to vend my wares, but he said that 'the waiting list had a waiting list', and I missed my window of opportunity. He was genuinely crushed I couldn't get in, so I didn't feel _too_ bad about it," the elderly cow recounted, and then tittered, "Like I said, Gideon's quite lucky to have gotten on; I wonder if it has something to do with that town meeting during the pred-scare?"

The smaller mammals of the truck cab were electric with potential questions, but it seemed only one actually managed to get asked by Judy, "What town meeting was this, Ms. Clara?"

"Judy my love, didn't you know? It was in the early days, when all those terrible attacks were happening in the city. No one knew about that _evil_ Bellwether's plot yet, and were afraid that everyone in Preds' Corner could snap at any second!"

Judy & Nick looked at Bo, whom said, "I was _literally_ under a rock at the time; actually got stuck for a few hours."

Judy & Nick looked at Esther, whom said, "Not exaggerating, _the_ busiest I've ever been in my life; felt like every pred in the city needed an attorney."

The four looked back to Ms. Clara, whom continued unhindered, "It was simply _dreadful_ ; I still get shivers thinking about it. The whole town was divided on what should be done about the preds of Bunnyburrow: there were some who said they should be _locked up_ , and others said they should be…" she whimpered, biting back the thought and taking a trembling breath, "No, I shan't consider it; we are _civilized_ mammals, after all."

"I can see why they didn't say anything about the town meeting," Judy said, and seemed hesitant to say something more before Bo grasped her paw; she breathed and patted his knuckles reassuringly, "I'm okay, Bobo." The foxes exchanged a concerned glance as Judy addressed Ms. Clara, "I know they approached Gideon about the business deal; was that after the town meeting?"

"Oh no, it was _during_ ," the old bison revealed, "The _whole_ town was in an uproar when she said 'we shouldn't fear our neighbors'; some twisted her words, saying that 'preds shouldn't _be_ our neighbors', while others accused her of hypocrisy and other things unbefitting a bunny of her stature. The Hoppses were always above reproach, but your mother tested the town's respect by holding out her phone and _declared_ that she would call the Grey household right then and there! As you can imagine, dear Gideon was a bit infamous when it came to the Hoppses, so the entire hall went _silent_ ; you could hear a _pin_ drop."

"Giddy hardly left Preds' Corner for _fifteen years_ , but they still hung that around his neck?" Esther asked incredulously, and then plaintively, "Sweet Tea, you told me _you_ forgave him in your heart the day it happened, right?"

"I _did_!" Judy pled, and cleared her throat as Bo kept his grip on her paw, the other rubbing at her back. Nick's brow furrowed with deepened concern.

"Oh dear, I've stepped far beyond my bounds," worried Ms. Clara, "Forgive an old ninny, sugarplum-"

"I think the events that followed are fairly clear," Nick broke in with sweeping nonchalance, "A deal is struck between rabbit & fox for good, honest business, and said rabbits move said fox into - what I can only imagine was back then - a solitary, otherwise abandoned little shop at the end of a street; but still _very_ much visible from town. The Hoppses put their name on the line and invest all their credibility in not simply _any_ fox, but _the_ fox made notorious by his name _screamed_ across the heavens a decade-and-a-half prior. With Bonnie's clout  & Gideon's infamy, surely, this gambit is the edge of the abyss for Bunnyburrow.

"For a time, Stu & Bonnie are not only Gideon's business partners, but likely enough his sole _prey_ customers, until Sheriff Longmare is brought around by regular, _continuous_ false reports of 'suspicious activity'. Luckily, 'there is no bad publicity'. With the combined high quality produce of the Hoppses and the _divine_ baking skills of Gideon, he becomes - if memory serves - one of the 'top pastry chefs in the Tri-Burrows' in but a few short weeks." He then turned to Judy and gingerly lifted her chin, dropping all accumulated pomp in sincere speech, "All thanks to _your_ shining influence, Carrots."

Judy looked up at him with a short breath, but then her grip on Bo's paw relaxed and she blinked away the mist in her eyes with a soft chuckle, "Oh, _stop_ ," she recovered with a smile, and then playfully pushed the fox's shoulder.


	23. Chapter 23

The sun sat in its mid-afternoon sky, still a golden warmth against the cooler blue over the vast, rolling hills of Horseshire. If a city-fox might be stunned by the size of a farm in Bunnyburrow, then the open space housing the TBR would stupefy.

"This is _all_ Horseshire?" Nick asked incredulously. As soon as he had the chance to exit the truck and stretch his lanky self, he clambered onto the roof of the vehicle to survey the impossibly huge tract of land.

"Oh, Nick, be careful!" dreaded Ms. Clara.

"Don't worry, ma'am, the truck is stationary and turned off," assured the fox.

"It's _the_ largest open space in Zootopia's territory," explained Judy, nimbly hopping up to join her partner, "home to not only horses, of course."

"Oh, Judy!" the elderly cow continued to dread.

"Get _down_ , you two; you're worrying our dear Ms. Clara," scolded Esther. When they were back on the ground, she referenced a text message on her phone to determine Gideon's location in the TBR, holding it for the group to glimpse. "This booth number means nothing to me," she stated simply, "Without a directory, that is, so let's find us an info desk."

"Are you joining us, Ms. Clara?" Bo asked.

"If you young folk don't mind, of course," she said, already walking nearby, "I always love seeing my red velvet cupcake."

"I see what you mean about nicknames," Bo whispered to the fox, putting a paw over his mouth as discreetly as he could.

"It means she is a very _sweet_ individual, and sees others the same way," Nick explained, and wished he had his phone out to record Bo's look of dawning realization.

The TBR was rife with activity, walled off with tents and canopies between what looked like permanent, horse-sized structures. Great reams of balloons were being lifted into the air with colorful streamers trailing behind them and tethered to towering poles. Rabbits and hares of all colors worked in tireless pandemonium alongside the careful hoof-fall of horses and ponies alike. One such horse stood guard at an opening in the picketed fence surrounding - at least this part of - the festivities.

"I'm sorry," he said sternly, putting out a hoof to halt the group while balancing a digital pad with the other, "but the TBR isn't open to the public during setup." Nick was always amused at how horses operated fine-manipulation electronics with what was effectively a rock hinged at the end of their arm; typing with their lips also made for exquisite irony. This particular stallion had the customary rubber "gloves" which made the "holding" and use of such objects a great deal neater.

"Oh ho ho," tittered Ms. Clara before Nick had a chance to convince the guard otherwise, "We're not simply part of 'the public', goodness, half of us are closely related to either a participant or an _organizer_ of the TBR. Why, I'm surprised you don't recognize young Esther Grey, her brother Gideon is a vendor, you know, and Nick here is his first cousin on his mother's side."

"Oh, umm, I see," the guard considered, tapping & dragging at the screen to scroll through a list, perhaps, "It's okay if they go in, then, but-"

"And _surely_ you wouldn't deny entry to the granddaughter of _Reginald Hopps_ , he's on the TBR board, after all," the elderly bison continued in a sweet lowing, with a swept gesture towards Judy as though presenting a flower arrangement.

"Ah, hello Ms. Hopps! Alright, she's also fine, but he-" the guard tried, looking at the earthen-brown bunny.

" _He_ is 'Bo Briar'; his strong back and youthful vigor will be put to _good_ use helping to set up the festivities."

"I don't have him on my-"

"Young Mr. Horsecollar," she began in - what Esther would designate as - her 'proper tone', "if you _continue_ to impose such a _difficult_ time on me and my friends, I will _certainly_ have a few words with your father about your _rudeness_!"

The guard flinched, cleared his throat, and took a step back, "Y-yes, of course Ms. Clara," he said, and smiled as politely as he could, "Have a nice day, everyone."

"You were actually quiet through that whole thing, Slick," Judy whispered, "You sure you're feeling okay?"

"100%, Carrots," he whispered back with a wry smirk, "I savor the chance to see a master at work; so long as I'm not the mark."

"Ms. Clara, a master _hustler_ , really?"

"She could convince the lot of us that the sky was made of tapioca, if she wanted," he mused, still whispering, "We're lucky she's tempered by a strong moral compass."

"Do you two want to share with the rest of the class?" Esther asked coolly, also smirking.

"Again with the sneaking," Nick remarked, "I should tie a bell to you, or better yet, one of those house arrest anklets."

"Do they come in green? Drab gray clashes with most of my wardrobe."

"Oh look, they set up tent booth markers," Judy pointed out, and took a moment to figure the direction while Bo scratched his head in thought, "Let's see… Gideon should be down this way."

"Alright, now taking bets," the fox piped up, "I wager that his booth will reflect his shop, as a solitary tent set apart from everyone else."

"So cynical," chided Judy, "Very well, _I_ wager that his booth will be indistinguishable from adjacent vendors'. It's still a big step towards rabbit/fox relations, after all."

"Looks like it's up to _me_ to make the logical wager," sighed Esther, "They'll have him in one of the established buildings because he'll need to make more pastries than his van can carry, ergo, he'll need consistent sources of electricity and running water."

"This must one of those guessing games young foxes play with each other," Ms. Clara merrily observed.

"Come on, Bo, that means you, too," Judy grinned, "What is Gideon's booth like?"

"Uh… yellow?" Bo answered.

"'Yellow'," Nick repeated, brow quirked.

"Yellow… striped?" the brown rabbit shrugged.

"It's settled, then, Bo's wager is 'yellow-striped'," Esther officiated, glancing up at the uniformly off-white tents.

"38… 39… That one over there," Judy counted off, and then they stopped to witness what was, undeniably, Gideon Grey's booth; there he was, cleaning out a mobile oven hooked into a generator, with an accompanying water spigot whose hose trailed off to a gathering cluster of other hoses. It fit snugly between two off-white tents, which were empty with signs designating names on each. The tent itself was not, in fact, purely off-white, but covered in broad, vertical yellow stripes. "Well, I'll be darned," Judy admitted, "yellow stripes."

"You set this up, didn't you?" Esther calmly asked Bo, whom smiled as wide as he dared.

"I'm not part of the actual set-up crew, but they ask for my help if I'm in the area; I think they ran out of regular tents, because this one was last minute," the larger rabbit said, "I didn't recognize the booth number, at first, but it came to me after Judy pointed out the markers."

" _Sly_ bunny," Nick smirked, and held out his paw, "Up high, Punch; you earned it." The rabbit happily clapped his palm to the fox's, much to Ms. Clara's great delight.

"Hi Gideon!" Judy called, hopping up to hang by her elbows on the counter. A dull clang and a grunt of pain answered before the stouter fox pulled his head out to rub it. "Ooh, sorry," she winced, smiling apologetically.

"No worries, Judy," he replied, managing a half-grin as he closed up the oven, "I needed to get my head outta there, anyway. Oh hey, everyone's here!" and grinned wider, "Wow, Nick, what happened to you?"

"I went for a dive in a leaf pile to clear my head," he answered, examining the persistent mess of his shirt and a minuscule tear in the shoulder, "How proficient are you in sewing?"

"Of the many housekeeping skills Ma taught me, sewing was not one of them. You'll need to get your Dad to fix that up for ya'."

"He's the very fox I'm trying to avoid showing this shirt to," the Nick smirked, "Don't be surprised if the next time you see me I'll be a snappy three-piece suit."

"So why're y'all here?," Gideon said, smiling as he leaned on the counter, "I wasn't expecting to see you lot until dinner time."

"We thought we'd check in, see how things are going," the gray female said, smiling brightly at the pastry chef.

"Our dear bunnies are stopping by before heading off to TBR business, and since everyone present is already aware, I figured I should let you in on the good news of the day," the Grey female said, hoisting herself up to sit on the counter, one leg crossed over the other, "This'll be less of a shock for you, little brother, but our mysterious 'Uncle Jacky' is actually 'Aunt Jackie', mother of mutual acquaintance Nick Wilde."

"Well now, don't that beat all!" chimed Gideon, "I guess that makes us official cousins, huh? I should've figured there was some 'Savage' in you, what with those green eyes of yours. They're just like Ma's, huh, Essy?"

"Oh, so they are," she admitted offhandedly, glancing at Nick's face momentarily.

"Only a quick look this time, Esther?" Judy teased in blatant implication, having helped herself to some counter space by lying face-down on it, head up in a palm and idly kicking her legs behind her.

"Lest I lose myself in their depths, _yes_ ," Esther dramatized with feigning swoon, the back of her paw to her forehead.

"The _other_ reason foxes wear sunglasses," Nick told Bo, "We're innate hypnotists, so we need the darkened lenses to keep our powers under control."

"Okay, I don't think _that_ one is true…" Bo said in growing confusion.

"Blue, are you filling this poor bunny's head with _Wilde_ stories?" Esther accused, leaning in with a stern look.

"That's something of a _Grey_ area, Cherries," Nick recused, narrowing his eyes and leaning towards her.

"Would you two kiss already? The suspense is killing me," Gideon snorted.

"But they can't stand each other!" Bo suddenly blurted out, ears back and paws forward, earning a group-wide look of bewilderment, "They've been getting on each other's nerves more and more by the second!" There was a long, awkward silence that followed, and when Judy made to answer Bo's frustration, Nick looked at her with a quick shake of his head and then to his fellow foxes, and even up at Ms. Clara, before expectantly back to the bodybuilding bunny. With his brow furrowed Bo took a long, deep breath, put his palms together, exhaled, and then answered, "This… is a _fox_ thing, isn't it?"

"Bingo," Nick said immediately with a warm smile, snapping his fingeer and walking over to sling an arm about the thick neck, even leaning on him a bit, "Now, for the grand prize: walk us through this 'fox thing'. We'll need quiet from the audience, please."

"Umm…" Bo replied, rubbing his arm as he looked to Judy, who sat up and smiled, mouthing, 'You can do it'.

"Think back to everything you've seen & heard," the taller fox explained, "You know the correct answers; simply let the information roll about in your brain, trust your gut, and answer honestly."

"Foxes… tease each other because they like each other?" Bo began after a long minute.

"We call it 'bantering', but go on," Nick urged.

"You & Gideon 'banter' because you're… cousins?"

"Yep!" said Gideon, but added, "Same as me & Esther, except we're siblings."

"You & Judy banter because you're… friends?" Bo guessed.

"You're doing great, Bobo," Judy cheered.

"You & Esther banter because you're… umm…" he faltered, blushing a bit, "Is 'courting' the right word?"

"Three-for-three," answered Esther with a grin.

"So, do _we_ banter?" he asked Nick, pointing between them.

"Of course, Punch; you're my rival," the taller fox replied, and then punctuated his statement with a pat of the brown-furred cheek, "And I'm _winning_."

"But!" he flustered as the taller fox slipped away, wildly gesticulating, nostrils flaring and loudly snorting, eyelid twitching before he managed to calm himself, "So, what, am I the butt of your jokes? Am I at a negative score, or something?"

"Of course not," Nick said, and held up both of his paws with all fingers splayed, palms facing out, "Do this."

Bo crossed his arms angrily.

"Humor me," the taller fox insisted.

Bo looked at Judy, whom nodded, so he rolled his eyes and mimicked the gesture.

Nick reached out to fold in a thumb and a pinky on one of his Bo's hands, "You have _this_ many."

Bo glanced down, unamused at his 6 extended fingers, and then back up at Nick's smug smirk. He glanced over at Esther's pleased expression, and then to Gideon's playful grin. Finally, he looked at Judy's patient smile, before turning to Nick with his shoulders marginally heaving. "So what's the difference between you and Grav, huh?" he asked, throwing his arms up to raise his voice and lean in, "If all you're gonna do is mock me!"

Nick, unphased, relaxed his smile and put his paws into his pockets, "I'll go ahead and give you the answer, Punch, because I took no pleasure in that outburst. Listen carefully. Do you hear that? That is the sound of no one laughing. Not a single guffaw, chortle, snicker, or chuckle that you could share in. In all your dealings with Grav, only one of which I had the honor to stand by you, what was the common element? Mocking. Laughter. _At_ you, not with you; a distinction I must stress."

Bo listened, each word gradually draining the deep red indignation from his ears until only the normal pink remained. He wavered a bit as he stood, his soft hazel eyes locked onto those intense green irises.

"We foxes banter to strengthen ourselves," Nick continued, "It's a big, mean world out there, full of idiots & malcontents that would love nothing more than see the spirit of others crushed. While other predators are bigger and meaner, us little guys don't have the advantage of size or strength, so we make do the best we can. Not to put too fine a point on it, but this world doesn't trust foxes a whole lot, maybe that's partially our fault, but that means a fox cannot give or accept trust frivolously. Do you remember what you said, or almost said when we first met?"

Bo breathed steadily, but gulped when he realized that the question wasn't rhetorical. He glanced to Judy, and then the other foxes, before nodding to Nick.

"You were absolutely right," he revealed, his expression lifting to a smile, "Trusting a fox _is_ an awful lot of trouble, most mammals simply don't bother because us foxes find it hard to trust others in return; I'll admit it's something of a catch-22, but you'd best believe that once you have that trust, we'll always have your back. After all, if a fox can't trust a fox, who can they trust?"

"Maybe foxes _are_ innate hypnotists," Judy observed.

"Wouldn't _that_ be convenient," snickered Gideon, a snicker which Bo couldn't help but share, despite his momentary resistance.

"Ohh," lowed Ms. Clara with a happy sniff, pulling a lacy hanky from her pocket to dab at an eye, "To think, I'd live to see the day that foxes and rabbits could trust each other. I'd thought I'd seen it all when you young folk worked together to whip up all that cream- oops!" she sputtered, and clapped her hooves over her mouth in embarrassment, anxiously looking to Esther, and then to Judy, "Oh _no_ , I hope I didn't ruin the surprise…?"

"What happened with the whipped cream?" Esther asked. Collectively, Nick, Judy, Gideon, & Bo nearly jumped from their respective furs. To bring Esther in, much less Ms. Clara, on the whole issue of Night Howler-poisoned whipped cream, a faceless antagonist field testing a new drug, and potential mass casualties would be too much to reveal in so short a time; especially with the likelihood that there might be other bunnies within earshot. But could they lie, especially in the wake of Nick's grand exposition on trust?

"It was _me_ ," Bo blurted out, earning everyone's attention once again, guiltily tapping his index fingers together, "I was trying to show off but ate _way_ too much whipped cream at once and… barfed into the vat."

 _Bo, you brave, brilliant fool_ , Nick thought.

"Oh. My. Gosh," Esther cringed, throwing her hands up, "That's _disgusting_. What is _wrong_ with you? Two days before the TBR and you _ruin_ what Giddy worked so hard to make; all so you could 'show off'?"

"I'm _really_ sorry…"

"Now now, Cherries, don't be so hard on him," Nick prompted, "Bangs & I egged him on, so we're as much to blame as he is."

"But it all turned out okay, Essy, because Bo took it upon himself to whip up enough cream for the _whole week_ in a single afternoon," Gideon said, catching the cue, "We helped, of course, and Ms. Clara was kind enough to give us all the stuff we needed to make it work."

"Can you believe these… _adolescent alphas_?" she asked Judy, whom did her best to feign concurring incredulity and disgust, "We can't keep our eyes off them for a _second_." She turned in a very motherly manner to Bo with clear indications of a continued lecture, but as the earthen-brown rabbit shrunk away her phone cheerfully rang. Eyes locked on Bo, she slipped from the counter and reached into her back pocket to check the caller, "This is important, but don't think I'm done yelling at you," she said, pointing directly to the larger rabbit. With a flick of her wrist and and a sweep of her tail, she pointed a finger at each of her eyes, then turned on Nick  & Gideon to gesture those fingers at the both of them; it was clear to her that they needed constant adult supervision.

Ms. Clara watched the vixen storm off and answer the call, giving the other four a chance to breath easily. Bo clutched his chest and braced his knee, Nick reaching over to clap his back and guide him over to the counter, while Judy scooted closer and rubbed behind his ears; Gideon gave a congratulatory thumbs-up.

"Her eyes change color," whimpered Bo, "I didn't know they _did_ that!"

"We call it the 'Grey Eye'," the stouter fox whispered back, "both she & Pa's eyes go from blue to gray when they get _really_ mad. Mine don't, though; no one's said if they do anyway."

"Oh good, she has a visible anger meter," Nick remarked, "I'll need to keep that in mind."

"What? John!" came Esther's voice, "I used up all my allotted overtime this past week, remember? … It's still Sunday, I won't get any more until _tomorrow_! … Well, what happened to-? … Oh my goodness, is he okay? … _Yes_ , of course I have my laptop with me … Okay, okay, but tonight _only_ , got it? And this'll be double-time; not time-and-a-half, not 'time-and-three-quarters', but _double_ -time … I really don't see how you have a lot of choice in the matter, John … Of course I'll have it all done before midnight, who do you think you're talking to?" She smirked as she flicked off her phone, and sighed as she returned to the group.

"So…" Judy inferred warmly.

"So…" Esther implied coolly, "Something came up, and I am busy tonight."

"How much of tonight?" the bunny asked.

"Depending on how quickly I can get my laptop encrypted, maybe _all_ of it," the vixen tucked her phone away, and explained to the questioning looks, "I'll need remote access to the firm's servers, which means I'll need to encrypt my laptop. I've done it before, it shouldn't take too long. I _would_ appreciate a ride back home, though?" she asked, looking up hopefully at Ms. Clara.

"Oh, naturally, my strawberry shortcake," tittered the elderly cow, "It's the least I could do for blabbing. I hope I haven't caused any trouble…"

"Not at all, Ms. Clara," Esther said sweetly, and then turned on Bo, "It's _his_ mess to clean up, but I suppose if he already replaced the whipped cream, there's no more to say."

"Except for the vat, of course," the old bison remembered, "I was going to clean it out myself and return it tomorrow."

The vixen held Bo in place with that same, supremely sly look Nick witnessed the night before, and then arched her eyebrows expectantly towards the rambling bovine.

"Ms. Clara!" the larger rabbit said suddenly, putting on his most helpful smile, "Perhaps you'd… umm… give _me_ the chance to clean the vat? Please?"

"Oh, Bo," she tittered, looking to the brown bunny endearingly, "That's so sweet of you, but I couldn't ask that, you have _plenty_ on your plate as it is."

"No no, I _insist_ ," he said with subtle prompting from Esther, "It's my 'mess to clean up', after all, so I should, ya'know, clean it up?"

"How thoughtful," the vixen chimed, relaxing into a comfortable smile, "I'm sorry to pull him away again, Sweet Tea, but he _does_ seem intent on it."

"Oh yeah," agreed Bo, nervously chuckling, "I wouldn't want someone else cleaning up my mess; I'm still a bunny, after all, and we're _very_ responsible."

"Bobo, c'mere," Judy beckoned, scooting closer to the edge of the counter so they could touch noses once again.

"C'mon, _Chuck_ , the train's leaving," Esther said in a patient, sing-song tone.

"I'll see you tonight, Juju!" he called as the vixen pulled him away by his collar.


	24. Chapter 24

"She scares me sometimes," Judy admitted with a nervous giggle, when the three of them were alone.

"Try living with her," Gideon said.

"So _that_ 's what her schemes smell like," Nick observed.

"Not a deal breaker, I hope?" Gideon teased.

"More like a deal _maker_ ," Nick grinned, "A kickboxing defense attorney whose eyes turn silver when she's angry? I want her on _my_ side."

"Vixens of the world cry out as _Nick Wilde_ chooses a mate," Judy said, holding out her paws as though reading a marquee.

"I can finally walk the streets without getting mugged by my numerous fan clubs," the taller fox mused, hopping up to sit and swivel on the booth's counter, landing to the portable hard floor on the other side, "Does that fridge have those tiny pies I heard about?"

"Breaking hearts and stuffing his face," scoffed a smirking Gideon, walking over to the cooling unit with a jingle of his keys to unlock it, "Is this what he's always like, or only around me?" He pulled out a plate of about a dozen paw-sized pies and handed the whole thing to an eager Nick, "Here, these'll be bad by tomorrow."

"Did he break your heart too, Gideon?" asked Judy in feigned sympathy, swiveling around herself and patting the stouter fox's shoulder when he was close enough.

"He almost proposed last night after dinner, but the commute would've been too much for him," he pouted, reaching up to grasp the gesture of condolence.

"Aww, there there…" she cooed to his sad nodding.

"I got a nice bucket of water right here you both can dunk your heads in," Nick said between mouthfuls of pie, tapping his foot to a metal vessel sitting beneath the mobile spigot. "Additionally, Bangs, these things are out _standing_ ," he reported, popping another into his mouth.

"You should try 'em warm," the stouter fox chuckled as he leaned back on the counter.

"There's always tomorrow's pie-eating contest," Judy suggested, comfortably leaning forward as she dangled her feet over the edge, "Your 'rival' is participating, you know."

" _Very_ good point, Carrots, mayhaps I _will_ partake," Nick pondered, munching down another pie, "It'll mean skipping breakfast, though."

"You'll live," smirked Gideon.

"Mmh," the taller fox grunted happily, licking his fingers clean and handing the empty plate back to the baker, who set it atop the fridge. "As we are currently down one strong back, for which I'll admit tangential blame, I shall volunteer my aid to the Hoppses for any further TBR business in Bo's place."

"Well," considered Judy, tapping her chin, "we have neither a surplus of baked goods nor a deficiency in snark, but we can find _some_ thing for you to do."

"Happy to serve," Nick grinned.

"I'll drive ya' over there," Gideon offered, "The organization committee said I only needed to stay until I got everything ready for tomorrow, and I think that oven is as scrubbed as it's gonna get."

"I can't help but notice they didn't hook this spigot up to a sink," Nick pointed out.

"Last minute decisions," the baker shrugged, "What're you gonna do?"

"Rather curious, though, isn't it? My experience with bunnies is they aren't so capricious with their planning," the taller fox observed with a tap of his foot, "Case in point: this fold-out floor doesn't say 'last minute'." The jovial tone of his voice from the pies seemed to shift to a much more investigative demeanor, and it would also seem that Judy picked up on it.

" _Why_ a yellow-striped tent, then?" Judy questioned, hopping down from the counter and gesturing to the temporary structure, "I'd bet dollars to donuts that _this_ was pulled out of the Carrot Days Festival storage. And did you see the neighboring booths? They have names in them, but that's it." She walked over to one of the tent-walls and crawled beneath it, puff tail wiggling before she'd scoot back out, "There's _nothing_ over there."

Nick took it upon himself to inspect the other side, and confirmed the bunny's suspicion, "Everything starts _tomorrow_ , so why are these booths empty?"

"Yeah, you're right. On top of that, why didn't _I_ get a white booth, if they had extras?" Gideon asked.

"These probably aren't 'extras'," she realized, "they must be _dummies_."

"Dummies for _what_ , is the question," Nick wondered, counting off on his fingers, "Let's see; they could be a blind, a decoy, a cover, a buffer-"

"A 'buffer'?" Judy asked.

"No, not a buffer, not nearly enough room for that," Nick reconsidered, "Forget I said it."

"If only Bo hadn't left," Judy lamented, "he was _here_ when they set this tent up; he'd provide valuable insight."

"It does kinda stand out, doesn't it?" Gideon said with a rub to his neck, "I would've said 'look for the yellow-striped tent' instead of giving you the booth number, but I didn't even notice the stripes until I got here."

"Which sounds like it _was_ a last minute decision, because whoever gave you the booth number didn't know it was different," she said, "If they _did_ , they would've pointed you towards the 'yellow-striped tent'."

"Were they rushed at all?" asked Nick.

"They didn't _seem_ rushed," he answered.

"How can something be a last minute decision, yet _not_ a last minute decision?" the bunny speculated.

"Through misdirection," answered the taller fox, and began to pace, "Consider this: the vendor list for the TBR is both extensive and exclusive. Long-time established, trusted resident Ms. Clara tried _twice_ , but didn't make the cut; yet latecomer, infamous Gideon Grey _does_?"

"On top of that," she reasoned, picking up the pace, "My parents didn't know about it, and if _any_ one would know that Gideon was in the TBR, _they_ would. In fact, since Grandpa Reggie is _on_ the board, one would think he'd be the first to tell the Hopps family farm. Gideon, you didn't officially apply, correct?"

"No, you know that," the stouter fox answered, standing stationary, "Like I said, Tad Wooler told me that I was gonna be part of the festivities about a month ago; shortly after that I got an email about registration, I signed some papers, and here we are."

"We'll get back to him," Nick said, and turned to Judy, "I believe he and Mr. Dent Wooler are both involved in this. Before that, it's important to point out something as prominent as a _mismatched tent_ did not warrant a descriptor to the vendor upon assignment, because he's not who it's intended for."

"This tent is distinguished for easy identification by someone _not_ involved in the TBR," Judy continued, "someone who wouldn't know or have access to the booth number."

"My thoughts exactly," agreed the taller fox, "And if anyone points out the odd color, it's easily chalked up to-"

"A last minute decision," the baker said with a snap of his fingers.

"That means this tent is _targeted_ ," Judy warned.

"And I have a sneaky suspicion _why_ ," Nick said darkly, and once more began to pace, "Let's go back a year and X amount of months to the start of the pred-scare. Tensions are high with fear from both prey _&_ pred alike; the city is a different society from out in the country, though, and when the latter has a nice little pocket called 'Preds Corner' it leads to jumpy mammals."

"That was a scary time," Gideon admitted, "Us preds were afraid that the preys would grab up their torches and pitchforks any day. I don't know how your city-fox stories go, but I heard from others about stuff like that happening in the past; it wasn't pretty."

"We heard from Ms. Clara about how my parents reached out to you for a business proposal," Judy mentioned with a momentary smile.

"Yeah, I still find it hard to believe, even today," he chuckled, wringing his paws a bit still, "It shocked all of Preds' Corner when they heard about it. Some thought it was a trap, others thought it was a chance to show that us preds can be trusted. I was _so_ nervous when I went to the fairgrounds the next day, and doubly nervous when they showed me where the bakery would be. Felt like he entire street were staring daggers into me."

"Pause a minute," Nick calmly requested, "You went to the fairgrounds, not their farm?"

"They said it was 'neutral territory'."

"This sounds more like a peace treaty than a business proposition," Judy remarked, "How am I only _now_ hearing about this?"

"I have a theory," the taller fox began, ignoring the rabbit's smarmy eye-roll, "There were _two_ meetings, weren't there? One public and one private."

"Yeah, there were," Gideon said, taken aback, "How'd you figure?"

"Carrots said it herself: it was a peace treaty," he smirked, "Signing paperwork and working out negotiations is a long, boring processes; with the entire Burrow watching on the edge of their seats, it was only a matter of time until someone did something stupid. So, you and the Hoppses probably met in secret beforehand to get all the nitty-gritty out of the way, and then at the fairgrounds sealed the deal for all to witness."

"I see," Judy said, "Something like that relies on civility, which could waver if it became a frequent topic of conversation. I'm the first to admit that bunnies 'go along to get along'; sheep and horses are similar in that respect. Now that I think about it, that's an _incredible_ turn-around on public opinion…"

"Herd mentality is a topic for another day," Nick interjected, "Conversation unpaused; what were we talking about?"

"Secret rabbit/fox meetings?" Gideon guessed.

"Before that."

"Yellow-striped tent?" Judy suggested.

"After that."

"Oh, I moved into the bakery up against the empty lot."

"Thank you, that's the one," Nick snapped his fingers, "As I recall, Tad & Dent Wooler's pawn shop are on that same street, are they not?"

"Tad wasn't there at the time," Gideon explained, "and Dent's always been nice to me. I mean, sure, not at _first_ , but he came around after he tasted my wheatgrass squares."

"Well, your exquisite baking skills notwithstanding, Bangs, I suspect that those two rams, or someone they represent, wants _you_ in this tent come tomorrow."

"Is this because my parents are in business with him?" Judy asked with notable concern.

"That's one reason," the taller fox replied, turning to his cousin once again, "You said that Dent Wooler picks up the boulders Judy & Bo dig out; has he ever seen you at the Hopps farm?"

"Well, yeah, Bonnie & I waved at him from the kitchen window one time," Gideon began, gradually trailing off and taking a step back to brace the counter, "You don't suppose he's trying to get _rid_ of me, do you?"

"We cannot confirm it, and we should not take any steps towards that theory without concrete evidence," Nick determined, "He's innocent until proven guilty, after all, and we're only off-duty cops playing detective."

"You're right," Judy also determined, "I guess that brings us back to square one: _some_ one wants to test a new strain of Nighthowler pollen on a bunch of bunnies and pin the blame on Gideon, but we can't do anything about it without drawing suspicion. It's too bad we don't have any more of that poisoned whipped cream; we're not against the clock anymore, so we could open up an official investigation with Sheriff Longmare."

The foxes exchanged sly grins, "Actually," Nick began, "I'd say we're at square _two_."

"I have some of the whipped cream back home in my fridge," Gideon explained, "It's how Nick found out about it in the first place."

"Well well," beamed the rabbit, "Looks like our 'lucky fox' strikes again."

"A 'lucky fox' now, are we?" smirked the baker.

" _I_ am," Nick smirked back, "and it's that luck I'm banking on during the pie-eating contest tomorrow. Judy's right, this tent is targeted, but we don't know why or how, and or even if its purpose was already fulfilled. The one thought that came to mind was that the oven was rigged to explode-"

Gideon's ears and eyes drained of life as he bit back a shrill, instantaneous yelp. The stouter fox took a deep breath after clearing his throat at the shocked faces, stuttering his explanation, "I-I-I'm sorry, I guess a civilian like m-m-myself isn't used to your c-c-cop stuff. I had my head in there all day, ya'know, b-b-but go on; I was just a bit spooked, is all," and ended with an unsettled chuckle.

"So _that_ 's why you said 'buffer'," Judy recalled after a moment.

"And _that_ 's why I said to 'forget I said it'," reminded Nick, "An explosion of something that size would cause more casualties than poisoned whipped cream, and would draw unwanted attention."

"Are you okay, Gideon?" she asked as the baker helped himself to a chair.

"Yeah, I'll be okay," he said with slow huff, "Stretch, reach up and undo those flaps, please? We should close up for now."

"You got it, Bangs," Nick said, tugging at the rolled-up tent-fabric so it could fall over the opening and the counter. After a thought, he tugged at the outdoor-strength zipper flap to further 'secure' the booth.

"I could drive if you want," Judy offered, patting a still trembling paw of the stouter fox.

"Gimme a minute, I'll be right as rain," he said after some slow breaths, loosing another forced chuckle, "Still reeling a bit, I guess; prob'ly a good thing I'm a baker and not a cop, huh, all dough and no steel."

"Oh, c'mere," she insisted, rising up on tip-toes to hug around his neck, "You kept Bunnyburrow safe for pred & prey alike during the pred-scare; I'd say you've got _plenty_ of steel."

 _I know a certain cow that'd be moved to tears by this_ , Nick smirked, leaning on the counter as Gideon returned the embrace, even lifting her up a bit for a tighter hug. His smirk faded as he heard the telltale sounds of sifting fur, and with Judy practically hugging his skull…

"Gideon…?" she wavered, paws dragging along his head as Nick's did the night before, coming around to feel at his quivering cheeks, "Why do you have muzzle scars?"

Gideon could only whimper with wide eyes and contracted pupils, looking on the verge of tears yet unable to cry, his words strained at first but built faster and heavier, "I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry…!"

"Hey guys, come on, don't do this!" Nick attempted with variance but identical results.

"No, no no no no no," muttered Judy, stepping back from the stouter fox as he fell off the chair and onto his knees with whining apologies, "The scars aren't fresh they're too old, but they're too deep because they cut into you," she rattled on, each word choking her, "Healed over and faded but stretched it happened 5 years ago, no, 10, no! Oh, Gideon!" Judy _did_ burst into tears, "They put you in a muzzle because of _me_!"

They both wailed, caught in an abyssal recursion of tormented apologies. Gideon cut through his shirts with clenching claws to yank them off. Judy clutched her ears and bobbed harshly in a kneeling position.

But what of Nick? Being the only occupant of the booth still in his senses, he did the single sensible thing he could think of: he emptied the nearby bucket of water across them both. In the enclosed area, the wild arch of cold spigot water cascaded & whipped across the tent's walls and temporary fixtures. For his effort, wailing quieted to soft, confused whimpers.

"There, now it's out of your system!" he yelled, earning both of their attentions, pointing first at Judy, "You have some 'failed heroine disorder' or whatever, shouldering the weight of the world but then you condemn yourself if your selflessness has unintended consequences!" He then pointed to Gideon, "And you were cruelly bullied, which turned _you_ into a cruel bully, which got you 'predator therapy' as a _kit_ for three. Solid. Weeks!" Still yelling, he shoved the bucket onto his head, causing what water remained to splash down onto him, "There, now we're all wet and emotionally distraught! I hope you're happy!" He crossed his arms and sat heavily into a puddle on the floor.

Silence followed, broken only by shallow breathing and gentle dripping. _I really hoped that worked, because I'm not sure what I'm going to do if they go back to crying,_ mulled Nick, tapping his finger on his arm and awaiting their response. He couldn't see them, but he thought he could hear a soft coughing that turned into snickering, and then into chuckling, which turned into freeing laughter, mainly on the part of Gideon. He saw the lid of the bucket rising with Judy's bright, purple, puffy eyes smirking up at him.

"Dumb fox," she said.

They sat outside at the back of the tent, Nick on the upturned bucket, and the other two in the soft grass before him. He remained quiet, paws folded and thumbs tapping together; Gideon & Judy quietly waited for him to speak, he trying to keep his tattered shirts on, and she only in her tank top and pants.

"We'll do this one at a time," Nick began, "Judy, you have an amazing sense of justice, but when you sparked the pred-scare - and yes, it was _you_ \- you couldn't handle the knowledge that following your heart lead to so much pain and misery. Eventually, back on the farm, you fell into a deep, dark depression of doubt  & self-loathing. This continued for a stretch of time, wherein you didn't notice anything around you, not even the newest young male additions to the Hopps household: Gideon & Bo. At some point, you got it in your head that offing yourself was the best course of action, and since I know you read police & coroner reports as if they were magazine articles, you knew _exactly_ where  & how to cut for the quickest, cleanest end.

"Over a long series of nights, you approached the point-of-no-return, but I sincerely believe you'd never cross it; however, Bo, who according to Stu is a hard-working farmhand putting in long days, likely saw you one night standing over the kitchen sink with the knife. What else is your school-days crush to think? He breaks you from your depressed fugue state, grabs the knife, and all those bunny-emotions you bottle up so well burst like an overripe melon. You love him, Carrots, and he loves you. I love you, too, but I realize that it's not in the same way as him, and I'm okay with that. I wish you both a long, happy life, and a thousand little bunnies."

"I have a rebuttal," Judy said with a quirked brow.

"Save it for after, because this is a big one," he said, and turned to an anxious fox, "Gideon, there's no easy way to say this, but you went through 'predator therapy', which is a politically correct way of saying 'death by torture'; murderers and the criminally insane were sentenced to _two_ weeks maximum, but somehow you survived _three_. I wouldn't believe it for a second, but the muzzle scars on your head and the countless scars on your body say otherwise. 'Predator therapy' was abolished twelve years ago after a horrific scandal involving unsolved missing mammal cases; it's easy enough to read up on, so I'll leave it at that. You still claw yourself in your sleep because you're haunted by those three weeks, and I noticed certain trigger words  & phrases which put you into a state of shock. Unfortunately, there isn't anything I can do about _that_.

"What I _can_ do is assure you that none of the scars are visible," he slid off the bucket to kneel and so grip Gideon's trembling shoulder, looking directly into his eyes, remembering something his cousin said in that moment of weakness, "and you don't need to apologize for being a fox. I swear it upon our shared middle name of 'Piberius'."

"Stretch…" was all Gideon managed before falling forward, forgetting the shreds of his shirt to grab hold of Nick and sob. The taller fox comforted as best he could, but the 'snuggler' was out in full force and pinning his arms to his sides; he expressed a dire need for help from Judy, but she cashed in her rebuttal to join the embrace.


	25. Chapter 25

"And then our intrepid do-gooders filed their report for suspicious activity to the local authorities, the villains responsible were apprehended, and Gideon & Judy overcame their self-destructive tendencies, thus strengthening their friendship to lead long, healthy lives. The end."

 _Shut it, Dawson,_ replied Nick, _Your credibility is questionable because you're standing in the glove compartment. At least_ try _to pretend you're not a hallucination._ He glared behind his sunglasses, arm out the window and waving up- &-down with the passing wind. Gideon, likewise, hooked his elbow out the driver-side window, and savored the warm breeze whisking through the van drying off the trio. Judy sat in the center, arms up and behind her head, one leg crossed over the other dangling off the edge of the seat. It was a serene drive out of Horseshire, each recuperating from the recent explosions of emotion.

"Aren't you curious about what happened in the grotto?" the imaginary fox poised.

 _Not in the slightest_.

" _Sure_ ya' are," he crooned, "C'mon, I went through a _lot_ of trouble to get Esther into your mother's dress, and doughboy over here wasn't an easy fit, lemme tell ya'."

 _As if stands, I'm feeling pretty good right now; except for your persistance, of course. Even the ambient Nighthowler pollen of these fields doesn't bother me,_ Nick pondered, looking out at the wide, grassy plains, and then cradled his chin with one finger, the other tapping at his knee.

"Ah ha!" Dawson gasped, " _There_ go the gears!" And was gone.

"Hey Bangs," Nick began, looking to the driver, whom grunted with a curious, simple smile, "Esther said that the forest between your bakery and Preds Corner didn't have the pollen in it like the farmlands do," he paused and looked to both him and Judy, the latter removing her sunglasses, "Quick summary: on the way to the TBR from Preds Corner, I was thrown from the back of the truck and into a grotto underneath the trees."

"Okay, I think I know the place you're talking about," Gideon said casually, "What of it?"

"After a graceful face-plant I got a nasty sinus headache, but I also started hallucinating."

"As though you were exposed to concentrated _midnicampum holicithias_?" Judy asked.

" _Yes_ , but not quite," Nick continued, removing his sunglasses to chew on one of the arms, "My experience with these hallucinations is that they're distracting & obnoxious, but in the _grotto_ , they were almost clarifying."

"Maybe you fell onto some weird mushrooms?" Gideon suggested with a shrug.

"Mushrooms would make sense, but I'll get back to that. Esther & I cut through the forest at a narrow part earlier today, and I got a sinus headache _then_ , too; she soothed the pain with that song Ruth sang to you and her when you were kits," the taller fox explained.

"Really? I thought that only worked for fox-flu?" the stouter fox questioned.

"You sang the song to yourself in the grotto, didn't you?" Judy asked.

"I _did_ , and it _helped_."

"That's _not_ mushrooms," she worried.

"My thoughts exactly; it had to be some other environmental factor, but Esther already nixed one of the two I know about," Nick went on, "I'll admit, I discounted the idea of iron-roots before this weekend; I always figured the foxes of the Knottedwood were supremely clever saboteurs, which appeals to me more than magical trees. However, I am a mammal of science, so I do _not_ discount an inexplicably malfunctioning cell phone as coincidence."

"Heck, _I_ could've told you that," chuckled Gideon, a whimsical laugh much smoother than his earlier vocalizations, "I go for walks in those woods all the time, and the iron-root trees are _definitely_ a real thing. I didn't think they'd be so near my bakery, though."

"I suppose it's too much to suggest that some of those Knottedwood foxes were nearby with signal jammers?" the bunny challenged.

"It still wouldn't explain why my head hurt as badly as it did, especially without any physical signs of damage or trauma," he replied, "Unless I had a chip in my brain. Possible, but not likely; I can't remember the last time I woke up in a bathtub filled with ice."

"Iron-root trees can cause headaches," Judy sighed, returning her sunglasses onto her face, "Add that to this weekend's theme of 'unsolved mysteries'."

"I was hoping our resident farm-fox might shine some light on the subject."

"Don't look at me," Gideon said, "I'm as in the dark as you are."

"'In the dark'…" Nick pondered anew, "Bangs, do you ever _imagine_ how you might do something?"

"All the time," he answered with a forming grin, "especially when I'm baking. It helps to imagine _how_ it'll smell, look, taste when it's done, or even how it'll feel and sound when you bite into it."

" _Every_ one does that, Slick," Judy said, "Sometimes you need to take a step back and reevaluate what you're working on. _Visualize_ it, test your theory, and learn from your previous mistakes."

"Almost, Carrots, but I mean _before_ you do something," the taller fox corrected, "Back in the stone age, when I was still a hustler, I could imagine what my mark would say with such accuracy, it felt like _I_ already had the conversation by the time they started talking."

"Except for me, of course," she smirked.

"What can I say, you're an exceptional bunny," he grinned.

"Wait, you're not talking about that thing Mr. Foxglove does in the new episodes, are you?" the baker recused.

" _That_ is blatant precognition masquerading as acute awareness. Loads of fun, don't get me wrong, but _no_ logical backing, and sometimes it feels more like he jumps through a plot hole than actually solves a problem," Nick criticized.

"They did it much better in the older episodes," Gideon commented.

"No argument here."

"Is that how you climbed out of the grotto so quickly?" Judy said, steering the conversation back on course. "Esther was already on her phone to the emergency hotline, you know, but then you said not to call anyone."

"That was nothing new; in the dim light of the grotto, I could visualize the path up the roots much easier," Nick extrapolated, "I shall have to thank her for thinking of me, though. In any case, I was simply wondering if there was any Bunnyburrow lore about the iron-roots, and figured you two were my best bet in finding out."

"I was always told not to go near the woods," Judy recalled, "It was a 'dark place' filled with predators lurking behind every root and branch; foxes featured prominently."

"Of course," Nick smirked.

"As for Knottedwood - which we bunnies know as 'Bloodwood' because of the red color and it sounds spooky - there were campfire stories about its 'witches'; flying through the air like birds, striking down the unlucky with a flick of their wrist, a deathly whistle, and a flash of light," she shrugged and smiled, "I dressed up as a Bloodwood Witch for an All Hallows' Eve party once. _Once_."

"Didn't go over too well, I take it?" Gideon guessed.

"I wore a little reflector on my wrist to get the flick-&-flash," she demonstrated with a gesture, "I even got a whistle for effect, but a lot of the parents weren't too happy about it."

" _How_ old were you?" Nick asked.

"Twelve-ish?"

"Twelve-ish."

"I had my rebellious age, same as everyone else," Judy boasted, "Besides, Esther was off at ZU getting her law degree, so I didn't have anyone to-" She stopped short, and looked at Gideon.

He recognized the silence and looked over, but smiled, "It's okay. I know I was a little shut-in back then, still working through the, umm…" he gulped, and pointed to his back, "Ya'know, _that_."

"Good job, Bangs," Nick smiled, gesturing with his sunglasses, "You referenced it without seizing up, which considering you're behind the wheel of a moving vehicle, I'm _especially_ glad for."

"Well, I gotta keep it behind me, don't I?" he said with another hearty chuckle.

"And you used it in a pun," beamed Judy, "Esther won't believe it when she finds out."

"Too bad our phones ain't workin', 'eh _Nick_?"

"Unless your phones are prehistoric, they're HippoTech; dry them, charge them, and they'll work fine," he then turned to the bunny, "My phone's workin' fine, though, 'eh _Judy_?"

" _Yes_ , we all know you have a waterproof phone case, Nick," she sighed, " _Sheesh_ , you get flushed down one toilet…"

"In all seriousness," Gideon said solemnly, even though some words were choked, "This is something I need to tell her face-to-face. Tomorrow, as soon as I see her again. And Pa & Ma, as soon as I see them later this week." Judy touched his arm and he took a deep breath, "I'm good."

"Good," she smiled, and then turned to Nick, "Actually, I'll need your toilet-proof phone to call my parents and let them know about my… change of plans. They're _not_ going to be too happy about it, but-"

"Things happen," Nick finished, pulling out his mobile device to hand it over.

"Thanks," she sighed, but managed a sad smile as she dialed in her house phone. Sitting upright and tense, she waited through the ringing on the other end, "I'm not in much of a mood for face-to-face right now," she explained quickly, exchanged a nod with her partner, and then put the phone back to her ear, "Hi Mom! It's me, Judy. Listen, I'm really sorry that I wasn't there the past few days… What? … You're sure? … But, I mean, I promised I _would_ , so I should head over there and… Oh, okay, if you think it's for the best? … Yes, I love you, too," and clicked off the phone.

"That's the look of a bunny unsure if it went well or not," Nick stoically observed while accepting the return of his cell.

"There were a _lot_ of things Bo  & I were supposed to do for the TBR, but according to Mom, enough of the extended family pitched in and got it all finished. She said it was more important to spend time with _you_ ," Judy explained, looking up to the taller fox.

"I'm sure she included Gideon, Bo, & Esther in a generic sense," Nick smirked.

"She'd still like us to come over for dinner, though," Judy said, and then looking down at her still damp casual attire, "I wouldn't mind a change of clothes, honestly."

"Oh yes, that reminds me," the taller fox said, "Bangs, I'll need to borrow some clothes. I joined Esther in a trek over to the Grey homestead today, so my suitcase is over there."

"You and she both," scoffed the stouter fox, but grinning, "I ain't a boutique, you know; but we'll see if we can't find anything to fit that beanpole you call a body."

The sun sagged over the horizon as they parked beside Gideon's bakery, piling out to an empty lot and an early evening haze. "Keep the window open; give it a chance to air out," the stouter fox instructed his cousin.

"I don't think I've ever been up to your apartment before," Judy realized, shifting her weight to one foot and looking towards the stairs.

"You're not missing much, jus' a humble little nook to tuck myself away in."

"I give it a solid three-out-of-four stars," Nick critiqued, "Sleeping accommodations: needs improvement. Facilities: manageable. Location: quaint. Food: unparalleled, the shining point of the whole establishment. Conclusion: would visit again for a good meal."

"We're havin' dinner at the Hoppses, Stretch, it'd be rude to eat beforehand," Gideon chided, unlocking the door after they climbed the wooden steps. "Bathroom's through that first door, Jude, you can have it first."

"Thanks, Gid," she said, squinting into the dim before the lights flashed on, and then blinked out, even to a few clicking re-attempts of the switch, "Don't worry about it, I think I can manage. I'll try not to take _too_ long, but I'd like to dry out my clothes before putting them back on."

"No rush," the stouter fox smiled as she went through and closed the bathroom door, followed soon by the adjoining bedroom door. He harrumphed at the burned out light and then looked down at his torn shirt, pulling it up and off to examine it, "I _really_ did a number on this, didn't I?"

"You should be thankful that you didn't cut _yourself_ in the process," Nick observed, closing and locking the front door, but then smirking, "Yesterday seems like such a long time ago, doesn't it?"

"How d'you mean?" Gideon asked, folding the shirt over and walking to his bedroom.

"Not twenty-four hours ago, I practically had to pry that shirt off your back," he explained, following the stouter fox and, once more, closing the door behind him. The fur dryer hummed from the other passageway, so Nick eased with frank speech, "And _now_ , you're not so high-strung about it."

"I held onto all that stuff for sixteen years, Stretch," he introspected, setting the torn shirt on his bed and turning around, "but… it seems kind of silly to be uncomfortable around _you_ , all things considered." He grinned and walked over to his closet to take a look inside, scratching at his stomach.

"There are other fabrics than denim & flannel, Bangs," Nick remarked, peeking over the stouter fox's shoulder, "I'll get you the name of my tailor, because you're in _desperate_ need for a wardrobe upgrade."

"Hey, I got what suits me," he huffed, "It's not like others borrow my clothes on a regular basis, ya'know."

"Do you at least have a tie?"

" _Yes_ ," Gideon asserted, and pulled out a single necktie.

"This has a mustard stain on it," the taller fox pointed out.

"A _little_ one," he said, trying to rub it out with his thumb, and then continued haughtily, "And it's not 'mustard'; it's a turmeric- &-garlic sauce of my _own_ invention."

"In the habit of inventing sauces, are you?" and arched a curious brow.

"What, like _you_ 've never experimented before?"

"You know, you make a valid point. Maybe I'll try and switch up my own wardrobe a bit before I criticize someone else's. Move over," Nick said with a nudge of his shoulder, and reached in to pick out some colors he could work with; the son of a tailor knew a thing or two about clothes, after all.

"'Imagining' something up, Stretch?" Gideon asked, arms crossed patiently.

"Hmm, maybe?" he mused, pulling out a primarily green shirt with black-&-blue crosshatching, and a pair of black jeans, "Your build is a bit-" he cleared his throat.

"'Fat'?"

"I was going to say 'full-bodied'," Nick insisted, "Either way, I'm swimming in this thing. What do you have in the way of undergarments?"

"White cotton, but I think borrowing my undies might be a bit _weird_ ," Gideon said, pointing at his dresser before walking to it, and pulling out an unopened plastic packaging from the top drawer, "Here we go; I been meaning to return these because they're a size too small, but I never got around to it."

"Let's hear it for the 'lucky fox'," Nick boasted, and then grimaced as he examined the unopened package of white boxer-briefs, immediately recalling when his father provided him clothing the Friday before. _He got me; somehow that old fox got me after two days, two-hundred-plus miles, and through an estranged relation_ , and then he looked at Gideon with the same grimace.

"Something wrong, Stretch?"

" _Technically_ , no," he answered distantly, "These clothes I'm wearing right now came from my Dad's shop, and it occurs to me that he, too, offered new underwear. More likely out of jest if anything, but _still_."

"That's… one heck of a coincidence," Gideon said, quirked a brow, "And you as a 'mammal of science' don't like that it's a coincidence, is that it?"

"It's goes deeper than that, Bangs," the taller fox hesitated, holding the package in both paws and drumming his fingers, "When I was in the grotto, I hallucinated Esther in my Mom's dress, also from this past Friday, but I think I did that to remind myself of a lullaby she - my Mom - sang when I was a kit; which was also the same song she - Esther - sang to me to soothe my headache today."

"Then it's probably some kind of fox lullaby, and since our moms are sisters, that's easy enough to figure out," he shrugged.

"Gideon… There's something I haven't told you, yet," Nick breathed deeply, "I've been affected by mild hallucinations ever since Friday night. When I first ate the whipped cream, I hallucinated an entire conversation between the two of us before you resuscitated me. After that, they've been waking dreams, and a you that wasn't _you_ featured prominently, except he only _looked_ like you, but he acted like _me_."

Gideon was dumbstruck, blinked, and leaned on his dresser with a patient frown, "Okay, I'll bite. Who's 'he'?"

 _I hoped to avoid this, but here goes,_ Nick dreaded, and took another high, deep breath, "I call him 'Dawson', and he pops up like an Internet ad without a 'close' button. I figured it was the ambient Night Howler pollen that the hallucinations kept reacting to, because I saw him when we ate waffles, at the Hopps Farm, in the van on the way here-"

"Stretch, why are you telling me all this, and why _now_?"

"Because," he fretted, stepping closer with a low voice, "I thought I could either explain it or ignore it, but I _can't_ , and that scares me more than anything. Not dangling over certain death, not being chased by a sports car with fangs, not even the threat of being stampeded by a thousand bunnies, scares me more than uncertainty in my own sanity. If I can't figure my way out of something, I'm as good as _dead_.

"When I was in the grotto, I also imagined _you_ in my Dad's tailor outfit," Nick sighed, fingers to the bridge of his nose, "As insane as it sounds, it occurs to me that maybe it was some kind of 'premonition' - for lack of a better word - that you would mimic my Dad's actions from back on Friday; except _you_ actually gave me a package of clean underwear."

"You're worried you might be able to see the future?" Gideon asked incredulously, " _That_ 's what you're so scared of?"

"I'm scared that I was exposed to something in that grotto, and I don't know what it is!" he tried not to yell, glancing over his shoulder at the bathroom door and the still humming fur dryer. "That's why I asked about the iron-roots, that maybe they were known to have… I don't know, some kind of _moss_ with effects similar to Night Howler-!"

Gideon's paws clapped around Nick's mouth, pulling him in and looking him dead in the eye, "That's a whole lot a crazy, Stretch, but you know what you're doing right now? Waving around your undies, looking like you crawled out of a sewer pipe, and raving about how trees showed you the future. So how about you get dressed and I'll make you a sandwich to calm you down; deal?"

 _A sandwich would do me wonders right now_ , he considered, and nodded with an affirming grunt. Gideon smiled, releasing the face to pat its cheek, and grabbed any old shirt from his closet on the way out. Nick sighed, opening up the plastic package when his cousin closed the door again, and exchanged his damp city-fox clothes for the roomy farm-fox attire. With the freed hangers, he set his tailored shirt, tie, and slacks up to dry, and then folded his boxers on the edge of the hamper. The belt needed some cinching, and even then the pants were a bit lower on his hips than he'd like, but it compensated for his longer legs well enough. The shirt showed some stomach when he lifted his arms, and yet it otherwise felt like a billowing robe; he wondered if it were possible to pin the excess back until he could return to his suitcase to dig out something proper.

Nick rolled up his sleeves as he exited the bedroom, spotting Gideon in the kitchen cutting a hoagie sandwich on its plate to set at the table; a cup of hot tea sat adjacent. Looking up, the stouter fox smiled and approached, "There, now stop bein' crazy," he teased, punching the taller fox's shoulder on his way back into the bedroom to change pants. Rubbing his arm, Nick sat down and pulled the sandwich closer, giving it a sniff and a grin before munching.

Between the two halves, he sipped at the tea and blinked as the kitchen light went on, "Heya, Nick," Judy said calmly, walking over to a chair and hopping up, "Whatcha got there?"

"Honey-glazed turkey, lettuce, tomato, some kind of mustard, and a type of cheese I'm not familiar with," he described, taking up the second half and inspecting under the bread, "All on a fluffy loaf of white."

"Sounds good," she said calmly, "except for the turkey bit, I mean."

"I'm willing to suspend my diet for the sake of family."

"Listen, umm…" she drummed her fingers on the tabletop, "It wasn't my intention to eavesdrop, you know I respect your privacy, but even through the fur dryer I heard everything you said to Gideon."

Nick looked to her and paused chewing for only a moment, but then resumed as though unphased, "One of these days, I _will_ get a conversation past you," he said, smirking around his bite of food.

"Nick, this is _serious_ ," Judy continued, "I thought you were being your usual, facetious self back in the van, but if you're under the effects of a mind-altering drug, I can't simply brush it aside like when we raid a Howler den; _those_ are gone in the hour, but _this_ is going on two days."

"You know," he said after another sip of tea, "Yesterday morning, after you & I talked outside the front of your house, 'Dawson' sauntered up right behind Bo, bold as brass. He even tried acting as if he _were_ Gideon." He stopped again when Judy's ear went up, and looked over his shoulder to the real farm-fox walking up in a fresh pair of jeans, "Yes, him, right there."

"What about 'me, right here'?" he asked.

"Carrots heard us chatting," Nick reported, and pivoted in his seat with another bite.

"Oh, uhh…" the stouter fox wavered, fingers twiddling, "How much did she… did _you_ hear, Judy?"

"I heard that Nick's had hallucinations since _Friday_ , and hasn't _told_ anyone."

"And until _now_ , there've been no indications of such, has there?"

"Nick, that's not the _point_ -" Judy asserted.

"I disagree," he interrupted, and finished off the sandwich, "I feel worlds better, Bangs, thank you," the taller fox grinned. Nick turned back to his partner and picked up his tea, "My behavior in the past forty-eight hours has not differed since the year and then some that you've known me; ergo, these 'hallucinations' are _not_ hindering my performance. If anything, I realize now that speaking with myself has proven most beneficial; why, it was during one of those brainstorming sessions that I realized that not _only_ was the whipped cream filled with Night Howler pollen, but that it was meant as a field test-"

Judy's ears sprung straight up, "Someone's pulling into the lot."

"Carrots, you're being rude-"

"Shh!" she hushed, sliding from her seat, "Bo's here, but he's with _Grav_?"

"Grav _Hopps_?" asked Gideon with understandable incredulity.

"I think they're arguing, and Grav's not alone," Judy continued, ears forward as she strode to the door with the foxes in tow. Next came a stomach-churning 'thump' after a severe engine rev and squeal of brakes that all three heard quite plainly. "No!" she cried, and bounded the remaining distance to the door.

"Nick: gun!" Gideon commanded, holding out his palm as Nick nimbly vaulted to the couch, reaching for and pulling out the Wincheetah; "Judy: door," he continued in a lower, determined tone, and marched out onto the balcony after she deftly turned the deadbolt and pulled the knob. Headlights of a sports car bathing the group of rabbits huddling around a limp pile; any commotion in the lot stopped as Gideon introduced himself with a poignant cocking.


	26. Chapter 26

Judy & Nick quickly followed, standing behind and on either side of the gun-toting farm-fox, cast in the goldenrod rays of an ending day. There was Grav, leaning on the upright vat from Gideon's bakery and facing the apartment; he wore a heavier, darker jacket than earlier. "Well, hey there Gunky," he began, his voice smooth as silk but venomous, "Didn't know this was _your_ place. How ya' been?"

"My 'place', Grav, includes that lot you're in," Gideon pointed out, walking the steps until he was halfway down the stairs, "So you'd best be skedaddlin' or I'm gonna have some _very_ loud things to say to you."

"Judy," Grav said in a sickening flowery tone, looking up at the gray rabbit with his arms outstretched and an overly polite smile, "Your fox is mighty discourteous. I thought you kept better company than _that_."

Gideon clicked the safety off.

"Grav," Judy said sternly, walking down and past Gideon with a touch to his elbow, "Where's Bo?"

The butterscotch rabbit looked back and snapped his fingers, shoo-ing with a flick of his wrist as the other rabbits stepped away; there on the ground was the unmistakeable bulk of Bo Briar. "The clumsy guy _tripped_ ," Grav snickered, and then knocked on the vat, "Sent this rolling quite a ways, too. Ms. Clara entrusted us to get him here and we offered to help him carry it, but Branches here _insisted_ he do it all by his lonesome. He's a tough one, your Bo, sure takes a _lot_ to get him down."

Gideon's finger moved from the trigger-guard to the trigger, a low growl on his curled lips as he made to address Grav with the business end, but immediately stopped as Judy pivoted to brace his arm and the barrel. Bright purple eyes stared intently as she mouthed a quiet 'No'. He glanced up, and realized why she stopped him: Grav, along with two or three others, were reaching into their jackets in a _very_ distinct manner. Up at the top of the steps, Nick's footfall scampered into the apartment.

"Your foxes _can_ learn; that deserves recognition," the butterscotch bunny said, removing his grip from what he had stashed in the back of his pants, and signaled the others to do the same. He stood paws in his pockets, and smiled smugly, "Your taste in bunnies, though," he grunted and shrugged, "could use some improvement. Hanging off this _half-hare_ like you do? It's _unsightly_."

Judy's ears flicked towards the apartment, and her stance relaxed in subtle ways that only Gideon, due to his proximity and night vision, could notice; she glimpsed to the farm-fox, and patted his forearm. In a single turn on her heel, her countenance changed completely; she approached Grav with her paws on her waist and a look of patient expectancy, each deliberate step putting a little more sway to her hips. "And I suppose _you_ would be a bit more… _sightly_?" she dared, standing only a few feet away with her weight on one leg.

"Practice some discretion, Ms. Hopps," he replied coyly, tilting his head to study her from the corner of his eye and offering a smirk, "You've made it abundantly clear your intentions aren't for _me_. No, you prefer someone with a bit more…" he pulled his paws out to gesture at a large physique, " _aberration_. Still, I pride myself as a gentlerabbit, and would be privileged to introduce you to a brother of mine. Respectable sort, very _strong_."

She shifted her weight to the other foot, and so stepped closer, "Would I favor a _strong_ bunny? I certainly would Grav, but…" and took another step forward, once more shifting weight from one foot to the other, speaking in a lower yet lighter tone, "strength is measured in _more_ than muscle. You've demonstrated _that_ , haven't you?"

"My blushes," he cooed sardonically, and stepped close enough that they could touch fingertips if they reached, "but _do_ be reasonable, Judy, I know you want Bo."

" _I_ want Bo safe  & sound," she retorted, and challenged him by stepping closer with one last pronounced sway of her hips, "What do _you_ want?"

The waning sunlight bathed a rich, golden glow on his butterscotch face, but as it dipped under the horizon the harsh headlights behind him cast his smile in a ghastly shadow to exaggerate its corners. It darkened the hatred in his eyes and reddened the anger in his ears. "I want _you_ , Judy, that's all I ever wanted, but that's not part of _this_ negotiation," his voice rose a bit louder, eyes locked on the gray bunny, "I want Chunky Gunky over there to empty the shotgun; be sure _it_ gets some distance with the shells."

She looked over her shoulder, and nodded to Gideon. He hesitated in doubt and anger, eyes flicking about, but he angled the gun so that when he cocked it until empty, each shell ejected over the railing. With a flick of his ear, the stout fox set the gun on the step behind him to lean it on the rail, taking great care not to move his body too much. "Anything else-?" Judy began, turning back to face Grav only to find that he stepped close enough that their toes nearly touched.

"That gets you Bo," he continued, "but _if_ you want him with all his branches intact, then you will be _mine_ , and _mine_ alone."

Judy's steel did not falter, but she rolled the idea about behind her widest eyes, and answered in her sweetest tone, "Just the two of us, you mean?" she whispered, reaching out to brush both paws along his shirt to inch inside his jacket, and sliding one of her feet between his.

"Us, and our _beautiful_ children," he cooed, leaning in triumphantly to the boasts of whooping  & whistling from his peanut gallery.

"Oh, _Grav_ ," she swooned, one arm around his waist, the other at his chest, before firmly stating, "Don't make promises you can't _keep_." Judy shoved with all her strength against Grav's sternum as she hooked an ankle out from under him; quick paws grabbed the firearm from the back of his pants, and pointed it at an understandably shocked Grav after a quick step back.

"Freeze; ZPD!" Nick yelled in tandem with the shove, stepping out from around a half-turned Gideon, shotgun cocked & braced to his shoulder; he then whipped out the bright, golden shield of his badge in the other paw. He advanced swiftly and handed off his badge to Judy, shotgun leveled in full grip at the group standing around Bo. "Step back and toss your weapons my way," he directed.

"Do as her fox says," Grav ordered his defiant entourage, dark eyes staring down the barrel of his own shock pistol, but up into Judy's fierce, violet irises.

"Get down on the ground and put your hands behind your head," Officer Hopps continued, loud enough for them all to hear. The jacket-clad fluffle readily acquiesced to her authority, some dropping like leaves. Grav's leer turned demonic, but he, too, assumed the position. "What's Bo's status?" she inquired, eyes never leaving Grav.

"I've got a pulse and shallow breath," Officer Wilde reported, once more bracing the shotgun to his shoulder as he checked Bo's vitals, "Sheriff Longmare and an ambulance should be _en route_ -" He was cut off by the sound of sirens and a flashing aura of lights down the street, to which he smirked, "Speak of the devil."

"Okay, so, walk me through it again?" Gideon asked, once more behind the wheel of his van and getting a bit sore in the seat because of it.

"From the _beginning_ , or…?" Nick queried, arm dangling through the open window in the balmy, early evening breeze. The van seats were not yet _completely_ dry, it seemed.

"I guess the part about how you and Judy have some kind of… mind-link thing going on," the stouter fox shrugged, "And what happened when you ran back into my apartment? I nearly jumped outta my fur when I heard you whispering behind me on the stairs; I thought you were a _ghost_ , or something."

"Ah, _that_ ," the taller fox grinned, "Honestly, Bangs, you were the biggest variable in all this; if you were 'all dough' like you thought, we'd be up a creek without a paddle. You showed real steel when it counted."

"Shucks, Stretch…" Gideon beamed, ears a bit pinker as he cleared his throat.

"Anyway," Nick continued with a grin, "Grav and his goons didn't scamper when a big, mean fox cocked his shotgun, which means he anticipated it & planned accordingly. It wasn't until you swung the barrel about that Judy & I realized the extent of their arsenal."

"But only Grav and maybe another two packed heat?"

"Of the six present, including him, _all_ had a firearm, but not _all_ reached for it," he corrected, "Outgunned and outnumbered, I knew we needed backup, but we also needed to keep them thinking that Grav was in _complete_ control; if even one of those punks threatened to pop Bo's head, there'd be nothing we could do about it. It also meant _I_ couldn't be there, so I made a show of scurrying back inside to signal Judy-"

"That's where you lose me, Stretch," Gideon interjected, " _How_ did you and Judy plan all that out? You weren't outside very long."

"Quite simple, dear cousin-"

"Don't give me that," he snapped, "it is _not_ simple."

"Fair enough," Nick relented, "Judy & I are both observant, and as soon as we were partnered on the force she spent _hours_ upon _hours_ training us to act and _re_ act on each other's cues. I should tell you about the over-the-shoulder trust exercises some time," he grinned, "What happened today is probably some of our finest work; if Bo weren't hit with a car, I'd want a recording of what transpired.

"Things went as well as they did because we were both in familiar enough territory, that we could improvise the finer details of a more generic plan of action, and as I said, in large part to your cooperation. With you swaggered out all intimidating like and drawing attention to yourself, I had the time to focus on how best to handle the situation without personally defusing the tension with Grav," Nick said, and then wandered off on a stray thought, "Imagine the kind of mischief you, Finnick, and I could've caused back in Zootopia… Anyway," he said, earning an impatient glare, "I needed Judy to stall for time so I could call up Sheriff Longmare, and also to get more ammo. I _could_ have called the emergency hotline, but I needed something direct; luckily, you still have a cell phone number for 'Rachel' on your fridge."

"Ya'know, I forgot that was there."

"I thought 'Rachel' was either your landlady or sweetheart at first, but since you likely deal with the Hoppses directly and I saw absolutely _no_ signs of a girlfriend, I dismissed it. Until earlier today, that is, when Esther enlightened me about one 'Sheriff _Rachel_ Longmare', and how she made frequent visits to your newly opened bakery on account of calls from the neighbors; Q.E.D., '2 + 2 = 4' and your sister isn't the only Grey on a first-name basis with the local authority. Although, now she has _my_ phone number in her call logs, so we'll see where that gets me."

"Oh!" Gideon said with a spark of revelation, "That must've been when Judy's ears were twitching. She could hear you in the kitchen from _outside_?"

"I invest a lot of trust in our dear Officer Fluff," Nick boasted, "Her hearing is acute, even by bunny standards, something she no doubt honed. I knew she not only heard _my_ end of the conversation, but _Rachel_ 's as well. From there, she stalled for time as long as she could. I was busy sneaking about in your generous shadow when the sun set, so I didn't get the chance to view her no doubt stellar performance. I envy you in that regard, Bangs."

"I ain't gonna lie, Stretch, if it weren't for you & Judy, I'd've wiped that smirk off Grav's face in a mighty loud manner," huffed the stouter fox, and then shuddered, "Or, I dunno, considering all you just said maybe it would've ended up much worse for me; or Bo! My stomach churns thinking about it."

"You're not going to wretch, are you?"

"No, no," he breathed, "I calmed myself down when I picked up the shotgun shells. I guess it also helped when I gave that report to the the deputy. And knowing that Bo was still conscious and on his way to the hospital," he spoke a bit faster, "He gets hit by a _car_ and he apologizes for dropping my _vat_? I don't think I'll ever understand bunnies. My gosh, I can't believe this happened the night before the TBR. Whatever steel I had is probably wet noodles by now…"

"Maybe you'd like to not drive right now."

"N-… actually, _yes,_ let's switch," Gideon agreed, and pulled over with a gentle application of the brakes. He stepped out of the driver's side and took a lungful of the cooling night air, walking around the front of his van while Nick scooted behind the wheel. Climbing in on the passenger's side, he flopped in and buckled up while Nick adjusted the mirrors. "So _this_ is what it's like over here," he mused.

"This indentation is substantial," the taller fox observed, leaning on one side to feel the sunken seat cushion.

"Again with the commentary," he scoffed, "For the hundredth time, I don't have other mammals using my stuff too much."

"Point of interest: which way is the hospital?" Nick asked, the van jerking forward, "Whoop! Hold on," he assured.

"Head at least another mile down that way and hang a left. Another 'point of interest': can you drive stick?" Gideon asked, realizing it might've been better to clarify it beforehand.

"Finnick's van is manual, and I've driven _that_ before," he insisted, and managed to get it back on the road at a steady pace.

"Who's this 'Finnick' guy, anyway?"

"My childhood friend & _former_ partner in legal crime," Nick smirked, "Shorter than Judy, but bigger ears, and _will_ drop you if you disrespect him. He's the closest I've got to a brother, and all that entails."

"Who's winning, you or him?" Gideon smirked.

"We don't keep track."

"What? That's like saying you don't banter at _all_."

"We banter, but we don't keep track," Nick replied soberly, and then looked at Gideon's sympathetic frown, before reaching over to pinch his cheek, "D'aww, look at _you_ , all sad for me and Finnick," he cooed. He pulled back when swatted at.

"Road!" Gideon barked, "Road!"

"Whoop! Hold on," corrected Nick, "That gentle curve came out of _no_ where. I'm more used to city driving, methinks; it's much safer."

"It's paved and painted, Stretch!"

"I can see that, Bangs, but there are no _reflectors_. It's a wonder you country drivers can get anywhere at all," he remarked, "I'm _quite_ sure Preds Corner has road reflectors."

"Preds' Corner ain't on the way to the hospital, and it's a good thing we're headed to one, because you're gonna give me a heart attack," huffed Gideon, and settled back into his seat. After some minutes of quiet, he pointed out the windshield, "Left here, Stretch, left he- oh, for crying out loud…"

"Whoop! Hold on," smiled Nick, and as the stouter fox braced the dashboard when the van came to a quick and sudden stop. He eased into a slow u-turn and backtracked to take a right down the correct road, "There, easily fixed."

"'Fixed' would mean _I_ 'm behind the wheel instead of _you_."

"In your state? I wouldn't dream of it, Bangs; _you_ are on the verge of a nervous breakdown," he chided, "No, I shall perform my familial duty and drive."

"Then stop daydreaming and drive!" he took a breath, and sunk back into his seat to cross his arms, "Don't think I didn't notice how you keep gazing off into the distance. If you're still having hallucinations, Stretch, then don't drive. You're a cop, you should know that."

" _About_ that," grinned the taller fox, his driving much smoother now that he had his fun, "I've done some re-evaluation and have a new theory."

"'A new theory'?" challenged Gideon, at least glad that he could relax.

"It came to me when I was eating that sandwich," he dramaticized, as though it were some divine revelation, "Remember how I said I could 'imagine a conversation'? And then when I said I 'hallucinated a conversation'? What if they were, in fact, one in the same?"

"You're joking."

"Maybe a little," he shrugged and smirked, "Granted, I've _never_ imagined a conversation as vividly as I did on Friday, and it usually doesn't result in cardiac arrest, but consider this: what happened when _you_ made the whipped cream? I assume you tasted it frequently to check for flavor."

"Well, yeah, of course I did," Gideon replied, sounding a bit more curious, "but I didn't get any hallucinations from it. You had a teeny-tiny bit and it was lights-out for you."

"I think _that_ 's because you have a stronger constitution than I do, and because you weren't medicated against Night Howler pollen; your resistance was built up over a longer period of time, so it's surer than mine against variance," he explained, "Think back, Bangs, it wasn't too long ago that you whipped it all up, maybe even over the course of several days. Does nothing stand out?"

"I _just_ said I didn't get any hallucinations," he asserted.

"My dear Bangs," grinned Nick, "imagination is more than visual. Did _any_ thing stand out?"

"You sound like one those after-school specials."

"Humor me."

Gideon rolled his eyes, "Alright, _fine_ ," he relented, "but gimme a moment. A lot's happened in the last few weeks."

"Take all the time you need," Nick said, pulling into the ER parking lot, and killed the engine, "Remember, you said that you could 'imagine' the taste and texture of something before you started baking it."

The pastry chef stared off into the distance for a solid minute, and then looked back at the taller fox in the van, "I was really proud of that whipped cream," he began, "it was gonna be my crowning glory. Felt like with every new batch I made, my heart skipped a beat and I got that rush of energy to keep going, to make another batch, because it was gonna be _better_ , somehow." He scratched at his neck, "Even though I knew it was poisoned I was so happy when I saw it yesterday, before Bo upchucked in it, because it came out _exactly_ how I pictured it would."

"Do you see what I'm getting at, Bangs?"

"I think so," he said, and unbuckled gis seatbelt, "It doesn't bring us any closer to figuring out who did it, though."

"No, I suppose not, but that's why we brought along the remaining bowl," Nick replied, tossing a thumb at the back of the van. "We'll hit up the sheriff's after we check in on Bo."

"Oh, Stretch, thanks for reminding me," Gideon said, leaning to one side and reaching into a pocket to pull out a slip of paper, "I entirely forgot about this, on account of all that's happened in the last hour, but I found this in the cleaned-out vat when I put the whipped cream inside."

"A love note?" teased Nick, "I think our dear Ms. Clara is courting a bit below her age bracket." His smile immediately fell when he opened the slip of paper.

"My face was something like that," Gideon smirked, peeking over the taller fox's shoulder, "but I had more of an arch to my brow, ya'know, inquisitively."

"Hold this," he said blandly, and reached into his pocket to fish out his wallet, pulling from it the receipt from lunch, "Look, what do you see?"

"I see you got to go to Ratatouille, and I didn't," the stouter fox harrumphed, "What's your point?"

"No, _look_ , someone else covered our check-"

"And you ate for _free_ ; I'm sure you were thrilled about that."

"Gideon, look at the _signature_ ," he sighed, "Okay, it's all blotchy from the water." He crumbled up the receipt and stuffed it into his pocket, before pulling out his phone, " _Luckily_ , I had the wherewithal to take a picture of it for easy recollection. Now, bite back the snark and take a gander at these two doodles. They're nearly _identical_ ," he explained, holding the note from the vat and digital image side-by-side, "The same smiling fox face on the same shield over the same 'ka-poof!'."

"Did Ms. Clara pay for your lunch or something?" he asked skeptically.

"I sincerely doubt it," Nick answered, "Anonymity isn't really her _thing_."

"So what's 'ka-poof'?"

"According to Bo, it's supposed to be the company pledge from Hexward; a 'homophone of the acronym', anyway," he thought back to recall it, "The 'Correct and Proper Use of Pharmaceuticals'."

Gideon mouthed the phrase and counted off his fingers, quirking a brow as he waggled the last finger, "Except 'Pharmaceuticals' begins with a 'P'," he pointed out, "and I thought the Hexward logo is a set of antlers?"

"I always thought it looked like a fox's face on a shield, personally," Nick shrugged, and then continued in a darker, trepidatious tone, "and apparently so does whoever drew these."

"Sounds like you have an idea about it."

"I do."

"But don't want to say what it is."

"I don't."

"C'mon, Stretch, you'll get to be all sly and stuff," grinned Gideon.

"I think Grav paid for our lunch, and sent these doodles as messages," Nick finally admitted, leaning on the steering wheel.

"Grav?" Gideon clearly doubted, "Mr. Hit-my-love-rival-with-a-car; _that_ Grav?"

"I'm pretty sure _that_ was revenge," the taller fox admitted, "After lunch, Carrots & Cherries went to get their toes done-"

"'Cherries' is Essy?"

"-Yes. Anyway, they did that, while I & Punch-"

"I'm guessing 'Punch' is Bo."

"Please keep all questions and comments until the end," Nick interjected, ignoring the facial expressions from his cousin, " _Anyway_ , we went to Phil's for a drink, Grav followed, and we beat him up when he decided to start trouble."

"Didn't think you the bar-brawlin' type, Stretch," Gideon grinned momentarily, but continued with a frown, "So, Grav hit Bo with his car because you guys beat him up?"

"I think he was more upset by the fact that I tased him," Nick mentioned offhandedly.

"'Tased him'?" Gideon was aghast, "Why'd you go and do a thing like _that_? Don't get me wrong, I'd give my left leg for a chance to do that, but no _wonder_ he's mad. Why'd you even have a taser to begin with?"

" _I_ didn't; _he_ did," the taller fox corrected, "That dumb bunny had a fox-taser shoved down the front of his pants; all _I_ did was turn it on. He might as well worn a shirt that said, 'Click _here_ to nominate me for the Darwin Award'," and pointed down at his crotch.

When the scene slowly unfolded in Gideon's mind, he bit back a goofy grin and smacked the dashboard; regardless of any self-restraint, the stouter fox burst into raucous laughter, gripping his sides and heaving for breath. While Nick enjoyed someone earning their comeuppance in so karmic a manner, he still remembered that dark look in Grav's eyes before it happened. He saw hatred before, directed at himself more often than he'd like, but Grav's was a malice Nick actively avoided; it could not forgive and it could not forget. Still, Gideon's merriment was as full and boisterous as an oven-fresh pie, and knowing what he knew about the stouter fox's past, allowed himself to catch the jollies.

"Alright, Bangs, we've been loitering in this parking lot for long enough, I think other mammals are staring," he said, clapping Gideon's back and returning his car keys on his way out the door, "Let's get inside and check on Bo."

"Yeah, this really ain't a laughing manner," Gideon laughed, wiping a tear from his eye as he stepped out of the van, "Grav's as vindictive as they come."

"Oh goody, I've made myself a new enemy, maybe even a _nemesis_ ," Nick dramaticized. _It's really a wonder what can happen in a 48 hour period_ , he mused as they walked down the car aisle towards the brightly lit ER waiting room, "In all seriousness, if _that_ 's what you had to deal with as a kit, I can see why you'd turn to violence as a coping mechanism."

"It felt good to push him down the first time, Stretch," Gideon admitted, "but ya'know, I've thought on it lots over the years, and I can't shake the feeling he _wanted_ me to fight back. Even though he was younger and smaller than me, he riled me up like a jackal-in-the-box _every_ chance he got."

"Having experienced his antagonism firsthand, I can attest that it leaves an impression. Whether he _plans_ to get his tail handed to him or not is still a mystery to me," Nick smirked.

"Well, that guy was a psycho as much back then as he is _now_ , I can see that clear as day. And it didn't matter that I was one of the oldest & biggest preds on the playground at the time. Ya'know, a 'farmyard fox', like you said," he challenged with a grin.

"The phrase was 'farmyard _predator_ '," he corrected amiably, "but despite how often I am right, I don't actually deny when I'm wrong. That said, I couldn't honestly predict that it was a prey, much less a _bunny_ , that drove you to bullying. And you still had sway around school, so no need for rescission _there_."

"Hey, I _tried_ to play nice, acting like Pa would want me to, but Grav lead the other kids in a _crusade_ treating me like I was some mean ol' fox up to no good; _daily_. And get this, he claimed that _fox-flu_ was contagious. I hadn't had it for _years_ , and he wasn't even around when I did!"

"Villainous!" Nick, glowered, and then said normally, if still disapprovingly, "He must've heard about it from some older siblings."

"Well, once I bared my teeth, it all went downhill and that was that; _I_ was the bad guy. Still, looking back on it, it kinda felt like he wouldn't _let_ me be a 'nice fox'."

"Hoo boy…" Nick said, rubbing the back of his neck, "This might be worse than it seems."

"Don't say that, Stretch, I don't need any 'worse' right now."

"I'll keep it to myself, then, but I do have a question."

"Oh no…"

"Only for sake of clarification," Nick smiled in a reassuring way, one-arm hugging the stouter fox as they walked, "Grav is _younger_ than you?"

"Yeah, same age as Judy," he answered, and then braced for another bombshell.

"Hmm," Nick grunted with a smirk, "Neat."

The ER waiting room of Bunnyburrow General Hospital was what one expected during a sudden and temporary population spike. To Nick's satisfaction, neither he nor Gideon earned so much as a second glance from a 90% bunny occupancy, and a 10% grab-bag of species. Perhaps the only unsettling aspect of the whole situation was how _efficiently_ newcomers were admitted, treated, and released. _Maybe it's only my imagination, but it's like bunnies operate in an entirely different dimension than other mammals_ , the taller fox pondered, following Gideon in line to see the receptionist.

"Hello, sirs," said she, a portly, chipper auburn rabbit, at the ready with an admissions form & pen, and what looked like a well-nursed cup of coffee in arm's reach, "How can I help you both this evening?"

"We're here visiting a friend, Bo Briar," the stouter fox explained with a cordial smile, taking the seat while Nick leaned carefully, casually on the counter, "Should've gotten in recently."

"Let's see… Okay, while Mr. Briar _is_ available for visitors, I'm afraid only family is allowed in right now," she said, "I'm sorry."

"Perhaps we can get a status update, then?" Nick broke in with a concerned smile of his own, "We were there when he was hit with the car, and to know that he's at least okay would be a huge relief."

"Oh, I see," she said, and nodded with a polite smile before addressing her computer.

"Thank you so much, Tillie," he said, glancing at her nametag, "we've been stressing out about it all the way here." Gideon remained mostly quiet, but grunted in agreement.

"I hope you don't mind my asking," 'Tillie' began, glancing up from her computer screen, "Are you two…?"

"We're cousins," Gideon answered nonchalantly, and then grinned, "How'd you guess?"

"Oh, cousins," she said, as though corrected, "Well, you're dressed so alike, I figured you were close."

"Stretch here tripped over a bucket of water," he snickered, bumping the taller fox with his elbow, "So he's borrowing some duds."

"Bangs, I'm making these 'duds' work," he said, fingers splayed dramatically on his chest as he pulled from his pocket a black strip of fabric with a small ochre stain on it.

"Hey, that's _my_ tie," Gideon realized, "When'd you swipe that?"

"When you weren't looking," Nick smirked, popping the flannel collar and knotting the necktie, fingers moving with such grace and speed it hardly seemed real. With a tie to adjust, he loosened it and smoothed his collar smugly, "To think, I was _actually_ out in public without one."

"Tillie!" called a cordial voice from behind the glass wall of the receptionist's desk; a sheep in a doctor's coat was leaning in through the door leading to the patients' rooms, "Go ahead and send them both back; Bo's asking for them."

"Will that be okay?" Nick asked the auburn bunny.

"Well, I suppose it couldn't hurt," she relented after drumming her fingers, and taking out some stick-on name tags to write a stylized number on each, "The patient is asking for you, after all, and Dr. Curry seems okay with it. Here, he's in room 3, inside and on your left. I'll buzz you in."

"Thank you _so_ much, Tillie, you've lifted a weight from our shoulders, you really have," beamed Nick, to which she smiled cheerily, happy to help.

"The 'lucky fox' strikes again," Gideon whispered with a grin.


	27. Chapter 27

"Hello, I'm Dr. Curry," the ram said when they crossed the threshold from a busy waiting room. He was a fairly young sheep, perhaps mid-twenties, since his green-irised pupils still had their youthful circular shape, even though the oval known in mature sheep was starting to show. He extended a cloven hoof in greeting to them both, "Gideon, it's good to see you."

"Hi Gareth," the stouter fox said, accepting the handshake, "I'm afraid I don't have any lemon bars tonight; I was kind of caught off guard."

"For the better, I think," he said with a chuckle, "Otherwise I'd have to share them, and you know how I am about your lemon bars."

"At long last, a fellow appreciator of Gideon's craft," the taller fox said, holding out his own handshake for the sheep, "Nick, Nick Wilde."

"So _you_ 're that 'Nick' I keep hearing out," Gareth replied, returning the handshake.

"Oh dear, _doth_ my reputation precede me?" he dramaticized. _Dang, no introductory paralysis,_ Nick thought, _it must have been a yesterday-only kind of thing._

"Don't worry, it's all good things."

"That's what I was afraid of," he smirked.

"Bo's awake, as you probably guessed," Dr. Curry said after a soft laugh, gesturing them both down the hall and near the back of the central nurses' center. "Judy heard you come in a few minutes ago," he continued, "She probably heard you pull into the parking lot."

"How's she do that, Stretch?" Gideon asked, " _You_ 've been her partner for a year."

"Anything that defies both science & logic are beyond my understanding," Nick shrugged.

"Did you ever just… _ask_ her?" the ram wondered aloud.

"And give her that satisfaction?" he rebuked.

"I'll _never_ understand you foxes," Gareth said with with a good-humored grimace.

"That's a relief," Gideon whispered loudly to a nodding Nick.

"Knock knock?" the ram said, rapping his knuckles on the frame of the sliding glass door of room #3, stepping in and peeking around the closed curtain. "Right as always, Judy: one 'Nick' and one 'Gideon'; found them flirting with the receptionist," he continued, pulling back the divider when he ascertained visible permission.

"Hi guys!" Judy greeted cheerily. Bo grinned brightly and waved from his bed, but only at the wrist since the rest of him was under heavy restraints.

Both foxes stared blankly, before Nick turned to Dr. Curry, "Someone made a few escape attempts, did he?"

"This isn't Mr. Briar's first rodeo," the doctor sighed with a roll of his semi-elliptical eyes.

"But you were hit by a _car_ -," Gideon said with a scratch of his noggin.

"And like I keep telling Gareth," the earthen-brown rabbit explained, "As soon as I heard the engine, I relaxed my body so to let the impact push me forward, and then the endorphins put me in a partial catatonic state."

"This happens often, does it?" Nick asked Judy wryly.

"He digs and launches rocks out of the ground," Judy answered Nick, smirk for smirk, "Blunt force trauma is an occupational hazard."

"But you jumped out of your _fur_ -," Gideon accused her.

"Of course, I'm scared _every_ time Bo gets hurt, even though I know he'll probably pull through," she admitted, reaching over to pat his bashful cheek.

"Well," the ram sighed, but quirked a brow and smiled as he clapped Bo's shoulder, "I'm going to check on some patients who _actually_ need my attention. _You_ , Mr. Briar, are staying overnight for observation."

"But-!"

"Standard. Procedure," he asserted, "If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times. Now, get some rest; if you're good, _maybe_ I'll have one of the nurses come in and loosen these restraints. Before I forget, Nick, a question for you."

"Who, _me_?" the taller fox queried, feigning insinuation.

"Yes, _you_ ," he smirked, "Your surname, is it with an 'e' or without?"

"With," he grinned, "Any particular reason for such a question?"

"Curiosity, is all," he admitted, before pulling back the curtain to exit, "One of the nurses is a 'Wild', but without the 'e'. Ring if you need anything," and closed the sliding glass door, muffling the ambient noise from the hallway.

"He must be talking about that one nurse that held Bo down," Judy pondered, looking to each fox as either grabbed a chair from a corner of the room, "'Wilde' isn't so uncommon a surname, though, with an 'e' or without."

"Why bring it up?" Gideon asked.

"Well," the gray bunny began, hopping up and sitting side-saddle on the bed next to Bo, "This guy had three orderlies trying to hold him down, and while the injuries from the car weren't _crippling_ , if he kept thrashing about he was going to cause permanent damage, to himself and any hopes for the MMA."

"I was more scared they wouldn't let me see you," Bo confessed, "I kept telling them not to use so much morphine, because too high of a dose can put me into a coma for a whole day, maybe _two_ , and then I'd miss the tractor pull. You'd think they'd remember that about me, and I knew they'd listen to _you_."

"And then a lion nurse came out of _nowhere_ ," she said, "and braced Bo against the bed, calming him almost immediately."

"A _lion_?" Nick  & Gideon both asked, in respective cynicism & awe. They exchanged glances, and the stouter fox turned bashfully away. "Is he this 'Nurse Wild', whom draws so much attention?" the taller fox inquired.

"So says the name on his uniform. I'm grateful for his help, and would like to thank him personally, but I haven't seen him since, or for that matter, ever before," she pointed out, "It was the first time hearing his voice, but I felt like everything was going to be okay-"

"Ah _ha_ ," Nick realized, crossing his arms and thumbing his chin, "So _that_ 's how you recognize voices from a mile off and through solid concrete; you use emotional association. It also explains how you can operate without going completely _insane_ from the constant chatter, because it can be either background noise or detailed info to you."

The room sat in silence a bit, Gideon & Bo blinking between the resident officers. Judy smiled and shrugged, "It was never really a secret, Slick, but if you want to know the nitty-gritty, I'm more than happy to elaborate."

"Does that mean you have a feeling for each us?" Bo asked nervously.

"I listen to what my heart says about my loved ones," she cooed, fingers brushing between his ears to melt the large rabbit and his momentary tension. " _You_ , Bobo, soothe and excite my heart simultaneously; like when you shake the dirt of a carrot after pulling it from the ground." The earthen-brown rabbit loosed a quiet moan of awe and gratitude.

"Bunny romanticism is _weird_ ," Nick whispered loudly to a nodding Gideon.

" _You_ ," she continued, pointing a finger at the taller fox with a daring smirk, "are like the beeping of a timer with only a few seconds remaining. Sometimes, it's that pitching anticipation before a light turns green; other times, it's the countdown of a timebomb."

"Good, I was worried I made you complacent," Nick smirked right back.

"And what about me?" the stouter fox asked reflexively, but almost immediately regretted doing so, if by nothing other than inward doubts.

"You," she began in a soft, warm tone, "For as long as I've known you, Gideon, your voice always said 'Help me'. Until this afternoon, it sounded like _you_ needed the help for yourself."

"And… _since_ this afternoon?" he quietly risked.

"It sounds like the help is for the others still in need, and that we can do it together," she beamed, sitting up on the bed and cross-legged.

"Wow…" he replied, also in awe.

"I _see_ ," Nick continued his cynicism, "These two get feel-good emotions, while _I_ 'm the alarm clock without a snooze button."

"Esther's kind of the same way," Judy kept on, brushing his comment aside with a flick of her wrist, "Hers is more like a rallying cry, though. Of course," the bunny added slyly, "when you two converse it's an _entirely_ different matter."

"Let's change subjects-" Nick prompted.

" _Please_ ," Gideon agreed.

"-To 'Nurse Wild'," he grinned, turning on his cousin.

"Wait…"

"Come to think of it, I recall seeing a smaller hospital in Preds Corner during our little tour of town," he pressed on, flicking a finger between himself and Bo, "That lion nurse was probably their breath-of-life standby in the maternity ward, brought over to help with the increase of patients. 'No rest for the weary', as they say. Perhaps a recent addition, and since neither of our bunnies spend too much time in Preds Corner, it's reasonable that they haven't met him before tonight.

"Now, I know that the Greys are a Chronicler family and lions play a prominent role in that _particular_ symbology, so what about Nurse Wild caught your attention?" Nick asked, resting his chin on a folded paw while leaning on the arm of his chair.

"Do we have to go into this _now_?" the stouter fox asked, fingers twiddling.

"No, we _don't_ , right Nick?" Judy asserted.

"Certainly not," agreed Nick, grinning still, "Simply a curiosity. I respect your decision, one way or the other, but I would _love_ to hear what you have to say on the matter."

"It's silly, that's all," the baker said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"If you don't feel comfortable talking about it, Gideon, _we_ won't force you," the gray bunny reminded, speaking to one fox but implying towards the other.

"No, I can talk about it," he shrugged and grinned as best he could, "The day's been about getting stuff out in the open, right? And this ain't something I'm ashamed of."

"Atta boy," Nick encouraged, giving his cousin a thumb's up.

"So, back when I was 3, I think, I was sitting with Ma & Essy out in the fields around our house while Pa was working on a big project with the inside, and making a din because. It was getting darkish, so the fireflies were buzzing about in the nearby woods. Well, Pa called from the house and Ma told my big sister to watch me. She would be 9 at the time, and maybe she wasn't 100% attentive or something, because I snuck off after those fireflies."

"I think I see where this is going," Judy said.

"Yeah. It's one of my earliest memories, toddling into those woods," he recalled, "I still have dreams about spending hours in there, but how Essy tells it, it was only a few minutes."

"And what about the lion?" Bo asked.

"Well…" the stouter fox continued, "That's the weird thing. I remember that there was a _huge_ , old lion that I met in the woods that day, and long story short, he brought me back home. Essy made me promise not to tell Ma or Pa that I wandered off, so I didn't say anything about it, figuring my baby brain imagined it. Anyway, that's why I like lions, because of that memory," he then grinned and glared at Nick's brewing snark, " _Yes_ , that affected my vote for Lionheart, but also because of his Mammal Inclusion Initiative."

"And Esther didn't see this stranger in the woods?" Judy doubted.

"Nope," assured Gideon, "I asked her if she saw him, but she said she didn't. Otherwise she'd've made a much bigger fuss about it, telling Ma & Pa about someone sneaking about nearby, right?"

"A mammal that size with tawny fur couldn't hide from a fox in the dark if their life depended on it," Nick postulated, "Especially if they were close enough to drop you off in sight of the house. My vote is for 'baby brain imagination'," he poised, "By the way, what distracted young Esther after Ruth entrusted her with your safekeeping?"

"Hah!" the baker snorted back a laugh, "Right, that. She said she saw two shooting stars cross paths, and made a wish on 'em," he drew an 'X' in the air with downward fingers, still smirking, "I hope she didn't wish for a new baby brother or sister."

The ears of both Judy & Bo sprung like sails in a tailwind, he gazing at her as she widened her eyes in rapt curiosity, "Gideon," she gasped, "Was that 25 years ago?"

"Yep!"

"I think that happened on the night I was _born_."

"No way," he began at first, but looked at her again, and then to Bo, "Wait, really?"

"It's kind of a big thing on the Hopps farm," the larger rabbit confirmed, a smile growing on his face, "Ask her parents, she was born _exactly_ when the stars crossed," he went on, and Judy didn't try to stop him, but shrugged with a bashful grin, "According to her parents, only a few minutes after birth, her big purple eyes were open and ears were twitching; it's unheard of for a bunny."

"The crossed stars were a theme of mine _all_ through childhood," Judy said, with a gentle roll of her eyes, "It's supposed to be _really_ lucky, but I haven't heard anything in support of that claim. Besides, there must've been five or six other bunnies born under those same stars as me," she began, but then caught herself on… something, "Still, it must've been a beautiful sight; I only wish I could've seen it myself."

"Essy never mentioned that," pondered Giden, "I guess that'd be admitting she couldn't be trusting with watching me."

"It seems luck favors the eldest, because _I_ actually saw that celestial event, back when I was an 8-year-old kit," Nick boasted, but to Judy's acute ears his smug grin held something back, too, "It was the same night my dad opened up his tailoring shop, Suitopia, and _that_ 's been going strong ever since." Their eyes locked for an instant, probing purple and rueful green, for Judy remembered why that day was so significant to Nick; it was the night of his first, and last, Junior Rangers Scout meeting.

"Hey, that means Mr. Wilde's shop and Judy have the same birthday," the stouter fox chuckled, "Although I guess I should call him 'Uncle John' now, shouldn't I?"

Nick's phone rang it's sombre-yet-upbeat melody before he had a chance to answer, and whipping it out to check the number, he saw it was the second most recent in the call logs. He grunted in recognition, and stood to hand it over to Judy, "I believe it's for _you_ , Carrots," he smirked.

"Oh?" but before she grasped it, "Oh…" Accepting the phone, she looked at the number and confirmed her suspicions, taking a deep breath to tap at the green button. "Hello?" she grimaced, but forced a smile, "Hi Dad, hi Mom," she said weakly, fingers waving at the air as though they could see it, "Yes, I'm _very_ sorry I didn't call, but my phone got wet and … Well, you see, Bo is in the hospital … No, no, it was a car this time-" she pulled the phone away as distressed voices blared from it, "No, he's okay, look!" and tapped the video call button, "Say something, before they mobilize," she hissed.

"Hi everyone!" Bo grinned.

"Oh, thank heavens," said Bonnie, to a chorus of younger cheers, "Judy, dear, he doesn't need _all_ those straps, does he?"

"I got it," Gideon offered, standing up from his chair and over to the bed, tugging at the winch to loosen the cuff and free Bo's paw.

"Is that Gideon?" Stu asked, "Who else you got over there?"

"Hello Hoppses," greeted Nick, leaning in to squeeze Bo's cheeks together, "This guy took a semi-truck to the face and walked it off. Ain't he something?"

"But it was a Furrari, and it was to the back?" Bo questioned in confusion.

"There, see?" the taller fox assured, tapping his knuckle on the bunny's chin, "He's at full functionality. The hospital even needed a _lion_ to keep him down."

"A _lion_?" Stu gasped, "What's a lion doing at the hospital?"

"Okay, Nick, I think you made your point," Judy smirked, bringing over the bed-tray to prop the phone up against a carton of orange juice. Before she lay in next to Bo so they could both be in the phone call, she glanced up to Nick tapping his wrist and then pointing out the door; she mouthed a 'Thank you'.

The foxes made their way out to allow the bunnies their time to chat, Nick sliding the door shut as Gideon gazed uncertainly at the nurses' station. _Still an open book, Bangs_ , smirked the taller fox, "You know his first name, don't you?" he whispered.

The stouter fox flinched, but it seemed he was growing more accustomed to his cousin's insightfulness and nodded discreetly. He whispered back, "I don't _know_ his first name, but I have a hunch."

"So, go ask," Nick suggested, "The worst that'll happen is they'll say it's not him, 'Is there anything else we can help you with?', and you'll be on your merry way. What if it _is_ him, though? What if this Nurse Wild is the lion you're _obviously_ looking for, but you never scraped up the courage to ask?"

"That's what I'm afraid of, Stretch," he dreaded, fingers twiddling once more, and leaned into a quieter whisper, glancing at the sliding glass door with the acute listener beyond. He pursed his lips and gestured Nick in closer, "I… I wasn't alone in therapy; there was another kid there, a lion cub, but it was like I was the only one who saw him. None of the… no one else so much as _looked_ at him, in all the time I was there."

Nick grunted in thought, "There _is_ such a thing as using neglect as a punishment."

"I _thought_ he was real during therapy, but since then, I figured he was some kind of… not a halluncination, but whatcha calls it…"

"Illusory coping mechanism?"

"Yeah, _that_ , that's what I thought he was," Gideon said, still whispering as best he could, "I mean, I seem to have a history of making up lions, popping in and out of the blue, but if he's been not only _real_ , but living in Preds' Corner all this time…?"

"So, go _ask_ ," he repeated, and pushed on his cousin's back, ushering him around the back of the nurses' station to the front, "I'll come with you, for emotional support."

"No, I can't-!" the stouter fox resisted, digging his heels fruitlessly into the smooth floor.

" _Sure_ you can," Nick insisted, "Be sly about it, like Mr. Foxglove."

"I ain't as sly as you, Stretch, you know that," worried Gideon.

" _Sure_ you are," Nick insisted, "We're cousins, so we have the same potential for slyness."

"How d'you figure?" doubted Gideon.

"Too late, we're here!" he whispered, and shoved Gideon towards the nurses' station.

"Oh!" gasped the ewe behind the counter, but quickly recovering, "Hi, is there something I can help you with?" she asked, closing a medical report around a finger.

"N-not really," Gideon stammered, but was nudged by Nick. He mutely pleaded over his shoulder, and then put on his best smile to address the cloven nurse, "but I was wondering if, umm, if Lenny were still in tonight?"

"Do you have a last name?" she inquired, tapping the shoulder of a hare sitting at the computer, whom glanced up and then over the counter with her direction.

"Lenny Wild, a lion and an old friend of mine," the stouter fox continued, gradually calming as he spoke, "I heard he might be working here tonight, and since I found out my bunny buddy was stable and resting, I figured I'd come over to say 'Hi'."

"Masterful," whispered Nick when the ewe and the hare exchanged glances.

"Not ringing any bells," the hare said, "I've been here all night but I haven't seen a lion, yet."

"You need your eyes checked," the ewe chided, "he's probably talking about the lion that held down Bo Briar."

"I don't need my 'eyes checked', because that was at least a half-hour ago, back when I was getting coffee," corrected the hare, "And don't act like you didn't know that."

"Regardless," she continued, "I think he was up from Preds' Corner delivering supplies, that's what I heard from some of the other nurses, anyway. He's long gone by now, though."

"Wait, _that_ guy?" scowled the hare, "He drops off a bunch of boxes and we're supposed to process all that with everything else going on?"

"Lay off it," she scoffed, "Our supervisor already okayed the whole shebang, and not a moment too soon."

"That doesn't mean I have to _like_ it," he grumbled, and then looked to Gideon, "So his name's 'Lenny', huh? I'll have to remember that the next time he comes by."

" _I_ didn't know his name was 'Lenny'," the ewe admitted, and leaned on the counter, "You say he's a friend of yours?"

"Uhh, I-" he began, but recovered soon enough, "That is to say, I haven't seen him in a long, _long_ while. I knew a lion named 'Lenny' when I was a kid, y'see, and there aren't too many lions running about Bunnyburrow, much less ones that're my age, so I figured maybe he was, umm, this 'Nurse Wild' fella."

"Well, if you ever see him again, tell him 'thanks'," she said with a smile, tired as she was, "We appreciate the extra medicine around here, despite what _others_ would have you believe." To this, the hare huffed and went back to his paperwork. "Is there anything else we can help you with?" the ewe asked.

"N-No, thank you very much," Gideon assured, guided away by a smiling, saluting Nick towards Bo's room.

" _Nicely_ done, Bangs, I couldn't have handled that better myself," grinned the taller fox, "Want to make a quick stop by Preds Corner before we go see the sheriff?"

"Nah," he breathed, slumping into the chair outside Room #3, "Whether he's 'Lenny Wild' or not won't change if it's today, tomorrow, or next week, and it doesn't sound like he's going anywhere soon, so there's no harm in waiting a few days. As it stands, Stretch, I came face-to-face with the biggest things of my life in a single weekend, so my nerves are as ragged as a fiddler's strings after a hoedown."

"So much so that you've reverted to country colloquialisms," he smirked.

The glass door slid open, and out walked Judy with Nick's phone tucked under her arm, "I thought I heard you guys out here," she said, handing over the mobile device. She closed the door behind her, "You both ready to go?"

"What about Bo?" Gideon asked.

"He & Grampa Reggie are talking about what happened tonight," she reported, and began ushering them back to the waiting room, "I'll fill you both in when we get outside."

"Wait, your Grampa Reggie's in there?" Nick wondered, craning his neck back.

" _Out_ side," she repeated patiently.

With their name tags removed to the nearby trashcan, the three were walking through the parking lot in a tense silence, Gideon's face showing the extent of his bubbling anxiety.

"Okay, Carrots, we're outside," Nick pressed, "What's happening?"

"Did I say 'outside'? I meant in the van," she smiled, "Chop chop, lots of ground to cover."

 _Oh dear…_ the taller fox realized, knowing his partner's responses in a dire situation, and a dire situation is certainly sounded. As they neared the baker's van, Nick turned to his cousin, "Bangs, you don't look well; want me to drive?"

" _No_ ," Gideon answered.

"Want _me_ to drive?" Judy offered, normal voice returning.

" _No_ ," Nick answered.

"One of us has to drive," she said, "that's how vehicles work."

"Judy can drive," the stouter fox decided, tossing her the keys, "You can drive stick, right?"

"I can drive stick," the bunny smirked, catching the keys and hopping up to the driver's side, quickly inspecting the size-adjustments that came standard with all modern vehicles: the booster bench that folded up from the seat, the pedal extensions that locked into place, and the easy reach knobs to angle the mirrors to her specifications.

"And I get the window seat," he continued before Nick could claim it.

"Fine," Nick relented with crossed arms, "but I control the radio." Climbing in first, Nick buckled up and squeezed himself as best he could after Gideon wedged in after him; utilizing the extra space provided by Judy's small frame, the taller fox leaned over a bit towards the driver's side as she started up the van.

The night was cool but comfortable, stars already out when the last of the sun was tucked away until morning. Gideon felt much better as he leaned on the door with closed eyes and hanging elbow, letting the air hit a simple smile; perhaps he wondered what he was missing by driving all the time. Nick grinned at the stouter fox's serenity, and carefully, ever-so-quietly opened the glove compartment to retrieve a clothespin he saw the day before.

"Don't," Judy chimed patiently, glancing up as her partner readied to pinch the clothespin around Gideon's ear.

"Eyes on the road, Carrots," he chided, and then deftly clipped the clothespin to the passenger side sun visor when Gideon smacked his lips, eyes opening to look about.

"Looks like we're headed to the farm, Jude," observed the stouter fox, "Isn't filing that report something of a priority?" His light nap did him a world of good, it seemed, sounding much calmer than in the hospital's parking lot.

"It is," she said, "and it's what we need to talk about."

"How're your nerves, Bangs, think they can take a bit more fiddling?" Nick asked.

"It doesn't sound like I have a lot of choice in the matter," Gideon lamented.

"That's the spirit."

"Grav's dad and my Dad grew up on the same farm with Grampa Reggie, which makes them brothers, but not by blood," Judy began, and clarified, "so when Grampa Reggie found out that Grav hit Bo with his car, he was _furious_ , and left him & all his buddies to sit in the holding cell at the sheriff's office overnight. Tomorrow, they'll go in for assault & battery, but the big thing is they'll miss the TBR, which according to Grampa, Grav was _really_ looking forward to."

"Carrots," Nick butted in, "You don't invoke secrecy for something a trivial as _that_."

"So impatient," she huffed, "While I don't have anything substantial, Grampa said that Grav was especially sorry he would miss the pie-eating contest."

"Now, _that_ , is something to invoke secrecy about."

"My thoughts exactly. You know what this means, right?"

"Grav is behind the Night Howler pollen in the whipped cream?" Gideon gasped.

"Almost," Judy smiled endearingly.

"Not quite," Nick corrected, "it means that Grav knows that we know about the whipped cream, and he wants us to know that it doesn't matter if we know that he's somehow involved in it."

"...Okay, I'm going back to sleep," opted the stouter fox.

"We actually need you awake for this," the bunny explained, "that's why I waited to start. This involves _you_ , Gideon."

"Me…?" he asked, "I thought I was only the scapegoat in case things went south, right, Stretch?"

"That was the theory," Nick said, and pulled out the wrinkled receipt; Gideon followed suit and pulled out the note from his vat and handed it over. Using the overhead clothespin, Nick clipped both pieces of paper up as though they were on an evidence board, idly fluttering from the outside breeze, "Bangs found _this_ doodle inside the the vat Grav was leaning on back at the apartment, so he must've just put it in there. Grav also followed Bo  & I from the restaurant, so it's reasonable that he was the one who paid for our lunch based on the similarity between these doodles; ergo, these are delivering the same message."

"And the message is 'we didn't stop anything yesterday'?" Gideon realized.

"We stopped the first scheme," the taller fox explained, "which likely set a contingency plan into motion to implicate _you_ for whatever was going to happen to those bunnies. The yellow-striped tent can be a landmark, 'Go in and poison the whipped cream directly'; risky, but contingency plans are meant to get the job done."

"But why _me_?" the stouter fox worried, "What did _I_ do?"

"This is only speculation," Judy continued with a clearing of her throat, "but the bunny/fox truce between you and my parents from the pred-scare could weaken if you're made into a menace."

"That… no, that's can't be true, can it?" he worried further, "Why would someone _do_ that?"

"For all we know, _this_ whole thing with the TBR could be a contingency plan of a larger scheme," she continued, "I spent last year studying the events leading to the pred-scare, and something hasn't sit right with me this entire weekend. The _midnicampum holicithias_ , the unwitting test subjects, the framed pred; sound familiar?"

"Are you're saying that what's happening _now_ is more of what happened _then_?" fretted Gideon.

"Except the test subjects are bunnies this time around, and not preds," she then addressed NIck, "I couldn't figure out _why_ Bellwether was darting random citizens, until what you said yesterday, Slick: the first fourteen were a field test."

"And the variance in species from all over the city provided a range of data," added Nick, "Just like all the TBR visitors."

"Yet, _no_ one found out about it; why?" prompted Judy, "Because Bellwether targeted preds that were alone, and easily found by Lionheart's timbre wolves; she was in his shadow and handled all the paperwork, it would be _easy_ to track their movements and plan accordingly, right under his nose."

"Except Emmitt Otterton was targeted because was getting too close to the truth," the taller fox reasoned, "and Manchas because he was a witness. I'm sure the fact that his proximity to us at the time of his darting was an added benefit."

"It bothered me that Bellwether would do something like that. Her voice always sounded desperate, yet hopeful, like she sincerely wanted a better world, same as me; I guess she was willing to do the wrong thing to do it, though, no matter how wrong it was," she sighed, "I don't know if Bellwether is behind all this, or if someone else is copying her-"

"But…" the stouter fox pleaded, "It's not like she really _could_ start it up again, right?"

"Bellwether's behind bars, but Zootopia is still healing from what she did," Nick explained, "All it would take to set it on fire is for a 'bad fox' to spark fear."

"And 'fear _always_ works'," quoted Judy.


	28. Chapter 28

Gideon was out the window again, but instead of a contented smile he wore a heavy frown; he never asked for the weight of the world, after all. Judy would shoulder it if she could and run up a mountain despite it, but it was not her burden to bear. Nick, whom mastered the art of defusing tension, knew there wasn't much he could do in the middle seat of a van, except control the radio. So, he turned it on at low volume, and tuned through the stations until he found what little he recognized as a Chronicler's hymn. The bunny looked to him curiously, and he answered by studying the stouter fox's visibly relaxing posture.

"Hey Jude," Gideon muttered, not yet turning from the window, "What d'you feel when you hear Grav's voice?"

"I'm sorry?" she asked, eyes glimpsing from the road.

"You have an emotion for each of us," he enunciated and turned to face her, "What about Grav's? You recognized him back at the apartment."

"I…" she hesitated, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel, "I feel nothing."

"'Nothing'?" challenged Nick, clicking off the radio, "No metaphor for nails on a chalkboard, or slopping muck?"

"When I hear his voice, there's nothing there. I've tried finding something, _any_ thing, but-"

"Carrots, I regard emotions as a necessary nuisance," he teased, leaning in, "but even _I_ can feel his negativity."

"Okay, you want imagery?" she smirked, pushing his smug face away, "Imagine that life is like… a hallway, and everyone you meet is a room. So, you know each door's address, and maybe you can see the light from under the door, right? That's how you know they're in there, and if you get close enough to put your ear at the door you can hear what's going on inside. Well, I can hear what's going on from the hallway, but with Grav... there's _no_ sound, at all. The light's on but there's no talking, or music, or TV, or microwave; it's dead silent, and super creepy. I felt it - or, didn't feel - ever since I met him as a kid."

"I always figured you pushed him away because he kept chasing you," Gideon remarked, "Why's he so set on having you?"

"C'mon, Bangs, the guy's obviously a little-" Nick interjected.

"It's okay, Nick," she said, calmly driving along the evening country road, "It's because he thinks we're fated to be together. Remember when I said 'five or six other bunnies' born under the crossed stars? As far as I know, only Grav is exactly the same age as me, down to the second."

"'Down to the second', really?" the taller fox doubted.

"Bunny doctors are very precise when it comes to timing," she grinned, "Anyway, I guess as soon as he found that out, his new life's mission was to make me his mate. That hasn't stopped him from chasing tail, of course; the concepts of 'love' & 'devotion' are likely foreign concepts to him."

"You & Grav are literally star-crossed," Nick observed, and reached over to console her, "You have my deepest sympathies."

"Thanks."

"Hey Stretch," Gideon continued, getting a casually confident grin from the taller fox, "You & Judy looked at each other when she talked about those stars. I might not be super observant, but I know pain when I see it. What really happened?"

Nick was, in one of the few times Judy could recall, stunned to silence, and he glanced back at the bunny before returning to his cousin with an unsure smile, "It really was the night my dad opened his shop, but, umm… how do I put this…" Nick paused.

"Just come out with it," the stouter fox suggested.

"Alright," the taller fox agreed, "Give me your paws." Gideon complied in hesitation, so Nick cupped each and ducked his head, placing their palms and fingers around his skull, around his cheeks, and around his nape. "Do you feel any scars?"

"No?" Gideon fretted.

"That's because my muzzle wasn't on for as long as yours," Nick returned the paws relaxed into his position. Judy focused on the road as best she could while Gideon gawked.

"I wanted to join the Junior Ranger Scouts when I was 8, to be a trusted part of a group. On my way to my first Scout meeting, I saw those crossed stars and made a wish on them, like any kit would," he narrated, "When I met with my fellow Junior Range Scouts, they held me to the ground and forced a muzzle on me, because that was the only way they could trust me. It was only on for a minute as I ran outside and yanked it off, but I'm still haunted by it.

"By the way," Nick lauded, "You're much slyer than I give you credit for."

"Oh, well," he shrugged, still learning the art of composure, "I don't have the luxury of being doughy, anymore, so I gotta sly up and fox right, ya'know?"

"Were these questions leading up to something, or simply curiosities?"

"They were," Gideon remembered, "I guess this one is for the you both: you got the first 'ka-poof!' message hours before Grav went to pick up Bo at Ms. Clara's, so how could he know about the whipped cream before that?"

"Oh," Judy realized, "That's a very good question."

"See? Cousins," Nick nudged with his elbow, "Slyness capacity."

"I think it's safe to say that aside from Bo, none of us told told anyone else about it," Judy said, "You didn't tell Esther, right?"

"Of course not," the taller fox scoffed, "What do you take me for?"

"We decided not to tell Essy," Gideon confirmed, tossing a thumb between the two of them, "I don't like keeping secrets from her, not if they're this big, so after this is over I'm letting her know what happened."

"That would be for the best," Judy agreed, "If this continues beyond tomorrow, she'd be a great asset. As for Ms. Clara, I was careful to give only the essentials."

"Ms. Clara didn't blab. You both can vouch for her character, and while I exaggerated a bit when I said she was a 'master hustler' earlier today, she's certainly not dumb. Additionally, matters of personal secrecy are obviously important to her; remember her reaction when she thought she let slip a juicy nugget?"

"Whether she told Grav or not is a moot point," the bunny stated, "because she would only think to tell him if he charmed it out of her, which means he either knew or suspected it beforehand, ergo, Ms. Clara wouldn't be the initial informant."

"Unless she were in cahoots with Grav,"Nick speculated.

"Which she ain't, and the proof's in the pudding, or in this case, the whipped cream. If she were in cahoots with Grav, it'd be _her_ cream I was whipping beforehand, not Tad's, and she wouldn't be so happy to know that a fresh batch was going into the TBR, would she?"

"Careful there, Gid," smirked Judy, "You're on your way to being the second fox cop."

"But then who'd bake my pies?" he chuckled.

"An excellent point," agreed Nick.

"If this weren't so serious, I'd be having fun figuring this stuff out," Gideon dared to grin.

"You can have fun figuring it out, so long as you don't lose sight of your objective," she instructed, "Now, back to the matter at hand: how did Grav find out about the whipped cream before he picked up Bo?"

"What was he doing at Ms. Clara's farm in the first place?" Nick postulated, "After taking some _Joules_ to the jewels, he should be laid up for the rest of the day, not joyriding."

"You don't think he was at her farm by coincidence?" doubted Judy.

"Not for a second," he scoffed again, "but that would mean he also knew that Bo would be there, something that was only possible to know when we got to the TBR."

"The TBR…" Gideon repeated, fingers drumming his chin, "There were bunnies _every_ where during setup, well into the afternoon. I remember thinking aloud at times and they'd pop up out of nowhere with an answer; it was right unnerving, I'll be honest. That's why I busied myself with the oven; it was the only place I could get any privacy."

"Maybe we should've taken a page from Goliath Grey, and acted as though someone paid attention to everything we said and did," Nick remarked stiffly.

Judy grasped the same revelation as she slowed to a stop before the sign of the Hopps family farm, looking out to the distant farmhouse dimly lit like a candle. "There's a lot of extended family in Bunnyburrow right now," she reecalled, knuckles gripping around the steering wheel, at first with anxiety but then with determination, "We can't assume that they're all in league with Grav, but I hate to admit it, we can't pretend that no one is, either. He's always had flunkies, ever since he was a kid, and I should've known better, but I hoped against hope that the years made him into a better bunny."

"It's not your fault, Carrots. Bullies don't leave the playground, they either reform or they take the playground with them, and Grav doesn't seem the reforming type."

"So… does Grav want to restart the pred-scare to make Zootopia his playground?" questioned Gideon, "He can't have that much to gain from it, can he?"

"I don't know what more he _can_ gain, his dad is the head of the Hopps processing plant in the city, after all," Judy explained with a heavy sigh, shifting the van back into gear and continuing onward.

"This isn't important information?" Nick chided.

"Sorry, Slick, you two are so familiar with my family, I keep forgetting how much you don't know," she smiled sadly, "Bunny family history isn't something that fits on a Woolipedia page, after all, it's something that's... absorbed by being part of it."

"So... do you think Grav's dad is behind all this?" Gideon asked.

"If I did, I'd be grasping at straws; he's a pretty nice bunny," she admitted, "Sure, Grav's a rich & powerful sadist, but something like this doesn't make any sense. If the pred-scare flared up again from a single incident, the best he could hope for is to apprehend whoever caused it and come across as a big hero."

"Hey Bangs, remember that 'worse' I alluded to earlier?"

"If you had this figured out since then, why not say something sooner?" rebuked Gideon.

"I didn't have this 'figured out' until now, because I needed my bunny to help piece everything together," Nick rebutted, "I hoped against hope that he wasn't a manipulative sociopath fueled by daddy's dollars, but this new insight proved my initial impression of him almost absolutely correct."

"'Almost'?"

"I don't know if he's killed anyone, yet," and crossed his fingers, "I'm really hoping 'not'."

"How about filling the rest of us in," Judy insisted, "What's this 'worse' you're talking about?"

Nick gave the floor over to a new, doubt-free Gideon, "Remember back at Woodlands, how Grav and his jerks kept teasing me every day until I pushed back? I think he did that to make me into a bad guy to protect the other kids from."

"I'd bet my tail he's at it again," Nick added, "For the record, I don't think that is the sole cause of all this, but I'm sure it's what got Grav into it."

Gideon spotted the radish fields passing by, and said, "Before we get there, Judy, I want to thank you for standing up for me when I was picked on as a kid. And... I'm glad it was you that kept me from hurting the other kids, even though I didn't show it at the time."

Judy loosed a quiet, heartfelt moan of gratitude, bright purple eyes looking at the stouter fox, "Nick, would you hug him for me, please?"

"What, now?" Nick asked, glancing at the nearer farmhouse, "You can't wait until we get out?"

"C'mon, Slick, the moment's fading and I'm at the wheel," she said, "Now get hugging."

"Don'tcha wanna hug me, Stretch?" teased Gideon, holding out his arms as best he could in the confined space of the van.

"I'll tell him about the clothespin," she warned.

"What about the clothespin?"

Nick leaned forward and embraced his cousin, "I'm proud of you, Bangs," he said swiftly, "You've gone through the fires of tribulation as a squishy doughball, and came out a crispy-crusted loaf of bread."

"Thanks?" he worried, clapping the taller fox's back as he glanced up at the clothespin clipped to the overhead visor.

Before Judy had a chance to park the van, Nick reached up and grabbed not only the doodles, but the clothespin as well, stuffing it all into his shirt pocket, "I'll hold onto those, you know, just in case."

"Okay, we're here long enough for me to change into fresh clothes and kiss my parents, and then we're out," she said, closing the windows and whispering, "Gid, this is something Nick & I have done a few times, so you stick with him and follow his lead."

Gideon hesitated, perhaps wondering what exactly they did in the ZPD, but nodded with an affirming grunt, "Roger that," he said, cupping his mouth to do so.

"Alright, shuffle out, I need to stretch my legs," Nick insisted, shoo-ing the both of them. When he had a chance to shake some feeling into his feet and arch his spine, "Please tell me you're fit to drive later," he said to the stouter fox.

"Hmm?" he grinned, "I dunno, I actually got some shuteye with her behind he wheel."

"Yeah, you wait until she takes off the velvet gloves, then you'll be _begging_ me to drive."

"C'mon, you two," she called after resetting the size adjustments to the driver's seat and locking the van, striding over to them, "Gid, the back is secure, right?"

"Oh, you betcha," the baker confirmed, accepting the keys and slipping them into a pocket, "Locked up tight."

"Good," she said, and turned towards the farmhouse as she often remembered it, sitting amidst its grand fields like a humble beacon of familial safety. Judy knew about the side-road which Gideon frequented whenever he visited, and decided it a safer bet than the larger driveway, which the kitchen overlooked and lead to the main road where the rocks were picked up.

"So, I notice a few things," Nick began, following his partner with his cousin keeping pace.

"And what's that?" Judy humored, handing off the gate.

"Firstly, bunnies don't play outside at night much," he said about the empty yard which, only yesterday, was bustling with rabbit activity.

"We're not exactly an 'outside-at-night' kind of species," she mused, "It sounds like there there's a 'secondly', and I daresay a 'thirdly' coming up."

"No 'thirdly' this time," he smirked, "but since you mention it: secondly, whose very expensive car is that in the driveway?"

Judy peered through the darkness in the direction of his pointed finger, catching sight of a sleek, black Roars Royce basking in the ambient light of the kitchen window. "I... don't know?" She paused, ears upright and towards the house to catch any sound she could.

"Let's find out," Gideon prompted, and ushered them both fully through the gate so he could close it behind him, "Back door or front door?"

"Front door," she said, not whispering as much, and turning to face them both with a telltale swivel of her ears, "I want to warn the both of you right now, because I don't know what to expect here. The house is kinda empty, which is weird in of itself, but on top of that Grav's parents are in there with mine."

"Okay, we found out," Gideon said, and then turned to leave.

"Do you know what they're saying?" Nick asked, grabbing the back of his cousin's shirt.

"It sounds like they're visiting, and that's it," she explained, looking over her shoulder, "No raised or strained voices, just... visiting."

"Courage to the sticking place," he determined, and walked past Judy towards the patio in his casual, confident gait, sparing a smirk over his shoulder, "we certainly won't get anywhere by standing around, will we?"

The other two picked up the pace, such that Judy could be the first to reach the front door and properly introduce herself, "Hello!" she called out, clapping her feet on the welcome mat before hopping in. Nick & Gideon followed suit, each ducking their heads enough to avoid a collision-induced headache, but did not greet in the same way. As she suspected, her parents, as well as Grav's, were sitting at the kitchen table.

"I told you I heard Judy," hushed Bonnie's voice after the soft scrape of wooden legs on tile, "Sweetheart, how're you feeling?"

"I didn't say you were wrong," responded Stu's voice, also followed by a similar scraping sound.

"You don't need to get up, Stu, I'm only fetching another cup," instructed Bonnie. "And finish your turn, we're all waiting on you."

The three poked into the kitchen doorway, catching sight of the four rabbit occupants. Bonnie was up at a cabinet, retrieving a cup as she said he would. Stu hovered over his chair, as though unsure whether he was standing or sitting; when he saw not only his daughter, but the foxes, he rose fully to his feet with a broad smile.

"Well, hey you two! What brings you 'round to the Hopps home?" he asked, and hastily followed up, "Not that you're not welcome, of course, you're always welcome here."

The other two bunnies were very well dressed, one a rotund male (who can't have been much older or younger than Stu), except mostly white with a generous splattering of dark coffee spots up his neck, over his head, and covering the bottom half of his ears. The other was a butterscotch female with a black splotch across her eye and up her ear on the right side, wearing a modest (yet not necessarily humble) teal dress.

"I've been better, but it's been a crazy day, as I'm sure you know," she related, "Hi Uncle Magnus, Aunt Clea, it's good to see you both again. These are my friends, Nick Wilde & Gideon Grey-"

"Judy," said 'Magnus', his voice commanding attention without demanding it, "You needn't be sorry in the least; if anything _I_ should be sorry for what happened to Bo." He stood as he spoke, and was actually a bit shorter than the average rabbit, but was of sturdy build  & confident posture, which along with an unmistakeable charisma, made him seem larger than his physical stature. "I'm grateful that he's okay, but rest assured, Grav will not walk away from this unscathed. He's an adult after all, and will know the consequences of his actions."

 _I like this guy_ , Nick grimaced behind a polite, smiling mask, _I don't want to like this guy, but I do, and that makes me uneasy._

"It's a good thing he wasn't crippled, you mean," Bonnie chided, getting in between him and her daughter, "Here you go, Judy, a few drops of cream and no sugar, just how you like it," she said, kissing her on the cheek and setting a cup of evening coffee into her grasp, "Now go get changed, you look like you crawled out of the washing machine."

"Thanks, Mom," she smirked, accepting the beverage with a reciprocated kiss and then a sip from the cup, "I won't be long, so don't have too much fun without me," she grinned, and slipped from the kitchen; not before kissing her Dad, of course.

"Would either of you boys like some coffee?" Bonnie continued, giving a cold shoulder to Magnus so to address the foxes, "I could make some tea for you, Gideon, of course, I know you don't care for coffee much."

"Thanks Mrs. H, but-"

"We would love a hot drink," Nick interrupted with his most gracious grin. Bonnie nodded and removed herself to prepare the offered favors. _Bonnie doesn't care for Magnus, and I don't blame her; I would not want to have known him when he was_ _younger_ , he speculated, _I thought Grav's dark eyes were something he cultivated himself, but I can see where he got them, except daddy here hides them better._

"Nick Wilde, was it?" Magnus smiled, presenting a handshake.

"Pleasures abound," the taller fox assured, grin unwavering as he reached for the offered paw, but slipped past it to feel at the dark blue lapel and study its accompanying bright gold four-leaf-clover pin, "Where did you ever find a Ralph Lauroch dinner suit? You've keen taste, Mr. Hopps, I must say." He then firmly shook the presented hand.

"And you've a keen eye! But please, call me 'Magnus'," he insisted, unwavering in his politeness, "Stu is the 'Mr. Hopps' on this farm, after all."

"A responsibility I take very seriously," Stu affirmed, leaving the table to fetch more chairs, "It's your turn, Mag."

"In a minute, Stu, there are pleasantries I must attend to," he chuckled over his shoulder, and then turned back, "And I already know about you, Mr. Gideon Grey," he grinned with another offered handshake, "It is a treat to finally see you face-to-face."

"Oh, 'Gideon's fine," he responded, grasping the paw and shake it, "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, though, since I only know you by name."

"Of course, how rude of me," he frowned, "Magnus & Clea Hopps, we're Grav's parents," he introduced, and then gestured to the sitting butterscotch lady-rabbit with a grin, beside whom he reclaimed his own seat. With the new chairs in place, each fox sat at the table (and with everything bunny-sized as it was, looked more like very careful squatting and tail-tucking), in the middle of which was a cribbage board and its associated cards.

"I was sure we had a box of tea in here somewhere," worried Bonnie.

"It's okay, Mrs. H, you don't need-" Gideon tried.

"There's some out in the pantry, I won't be much more than a minute."

"Hold on there, Bon," Stu cautioned, "the pantry's spare storage right now, I won't have you moving that stuff by yourself."

"Oh, so it is, isn't it?" Bonnie recalled, and headed for a doorway; _en route_ , she set a mug of coffee on the table, "Here you go, Nick, you like it black, correct?" He grabbed up the bunny-sized mug to toast her his gratitude and sip his affirmation.

"D'you two need any help?" offered Gideon, making to rise from his chair.

"Wouldn't dream of it," assured Stu, "You've had a long enough day without having to get your own tea. Besides, we've got plenty of help around here, so there's no need for a guest to worry themselves. You two relax, we'll be back in a jiffy."

"C'mon, kids, pantry duty!" rang Bonnie's voice from out in the hall, and so followed the sparing scurry of feet and a vague affirming vocalization. Of the kitchen's remaining occupants, only the taller fox seemed wary of the new situation.

 _I will need to confirm Judy's definition of "kinda empty" later..._ wondered Nick.

"It's a delight to meet you both," Clea chimed in, presenting her paw across the table, to which either fox accepted in cordial greeting, "I'm only sorry it was under these circumstances. As soon as we heard about Grav's mischief today, we came right over to set him straight. Please accept our deepest apologies for the trouble he caused," she lamented, and then addressed Nick specifically, "I understand you & Bo were accosted by Grav earlier in the afternoon?"

 _So, Phil really did call their parents. There doesn't seem to be anything wrong with her, though; nice bunny, very proper, likely a regulating factor in this mateship_ , he pondered, "With all due respect, ma'am, my greater concern about Grav's behavior isn't his overt antagonism, troubling as it is," he began, and pulled out the clothespin from his shirt pocket to present the note, "but rather _this_." He unfolded the "ka-poof!" doodle from Gideon's vat and held it out for them to see, "Is this familiar to either of you?"

Magnus's eyes went dark as pitch despite his patient smile, but Clea's expression shifted to wry amusement. "I can't say it is, Nick," she said sweetly, " _Should_ it be?"

 _And we're done here_ , decided Nick and grinned his most sincere grin, as though his life depended on it, "Only a trifling coincidence, then," he assured, snapping the paper back into a fold and tucking it away in his shirt pocket, "It was found after Grav was apprehended by Sheriff Longmare is all, right Gideon?"

"It might've been there the whole day for all we know," Gideon speculated aloud, deftly catching the cue, "My lot gets all kinds of trash blowing in sometimes; it's no big deal."

 _Careful, Bangs..._ Nick worried behind a shrugging smile, "I'm sure it's only a child's doodle, nothing more." _Shoot, not what I wanted to say._

"Actually," chuckled Magnus, eyes still dark and smile still patient, "it _does_ remind me of a superstition from centuries ago. Terribly archaic, though, no use for it in this day  & age."

 _What I wouldn't give for a stampede of bunnies right about now_ , Nick fretted, sipping from his coffee, "You don't say? I heard that hair from a goat's beard in your pocket brings good luck, perhaps it's something like that?"

"It's a bit more macabre," he corrected, "It's said to keep away witches."

"I'll admit, that's pretty creepy," said Gideon, sifting his fingers through the fur on his arm, but for the most part putting up a cheery front, "Good thing there aren't too many of _those_ flying about, huh?"

"Take it with a grain of salt, but it goes that if you mount a-" he began boisterously, paws around his own neck as though he were to pop his head off.

"Magnus!" scolded Clea, "That is by no means a topic of polite conversation."

"You're right, dear," he cast his smile aside for a ruing frown, paws folded on the table once again.

"Honestly, you're as bad as Grav sometimes," she chided, "What will I do with you both?"

His dark eyes dropped their severity with unnerving swiftness, "My apologies, boys, I can get carried away, sometimes, that's why I keep Clea nearby. I hope I didn't upset you?"

 _Gideon, you're either frozen in shock or a braver fox than I could've ever expected out of you_ , Nick considered, glancing from behind his coffee to the stiffly-seated pastry chef nearby. He, himself, had years of experienced indifference to fall back on and a year's worth of police training to act as a buffer, but ol' Bangs was still figuring out the finer points of jostled composure.

"Well," exhaled Gideon, claws digging into his own arm before relaxing, "It's a good thing we're civilized mammals, ain't it? Those practices went out with the dark ages, and not a moment too soon."

 _Bravo, cousin, you're learning from my stellar example. If only you worked with Finnick & I back in Zootopia, we'd have given even Mr. Big a run for his money_, mused Nick, genuinely feeling more at ease knowing that he could loosen his metaphorical grip on Gideon's paw, _Still, I know a veiled threat when I hear one, and I'd bet my tail Clea didn't stop him for our sakes._ Thankfully, his ear flicked to the sounds of muffled voices from the hallway.

"I thought you threw those skis away, Bon?" asked Stu.

"They were a gift, Stu, what would I say to my brother when he finds out I got rid of them?" Bonnie answered.

"Mom, I'm sure you haven't skied since that one time," said Judy, "Uncle Terry will understand if you decide to donate them." She entered into the kitchen, wearing a familiar pink shirt, and by the stitching in the right leg, the exact blue jeans from when they uncovered Bellwether's scheme.

And then Nick looked again; he saw that the shirt was actually a newer, deeper shade of pink, but the jeans were definitely the same. _Well_ , he considered, _I don't need any more red flags a-wavin'_. "Snow gear giving you trouble, Hoppses?" he grinned, craning his neck back to reference them while leaning in his chair.

"Be careful, Nick, you'll break your neck that way," Bonnie reprimanded, accepting the empty cup of coffee he offered up to her, "Will you three be staying for a bit of dinner, or are you heading out again?"

 _Oh, bless you, Bonnie, an easy exit if ever there was one_ , "Though it was simply delightful, I'm afraid our visit must be cut short," lamented the taller fox, rising up from the table with a sorry smile, and the stouter fox promptly following suit.

"That's a shame, but we can't expect you young folk to stick around with that party going on at the fairgrounds," grinned Stu, "half the house is over there right now, ya'know."

"Gonna hafta hold off on that cup of tea until next time, Mrs. H."

"I'll be sure to have it ready by then, but before you go, do take some food for the road," Bonnie assured, reaching up to stash the box in an overhead cabinet, before walking over to the fridge to pull out a sizeable, easily recognizable tupperware. She then walked over to where they both stood to hand off the leftovers, and then leaned up to hug around their necks, touching a motherly kiss on either cheek, "You're always welcome at the Hopps house."

The three bid their good-byes, even to some of the visiting relatives that poked in to see what was happening, and as they walked out to the nighttime yard Nick pointed at the container Gideon tucked under his arm, "Am I imagining things, or is that remarkably similar to what we're already toting around?"

"This?" he grinned and held up the item in question, "Bonnie must have a million of these things, because she keeps giving them to me filled with food. I mean, it's awful sweet, but she won't accept 'em back and I don't wanna throw 'em away."

"So you have a king's ransom in plastic containers stashed in your bakery," recalled an amused Nick.

"Mom buys them in bulk," shrugged the bunny, "Is that casserole or lasagna?"

"Casserole," he answered, peaking under the lid, and then smirked, "What _kind_?"

"Hmm…" she pondered, "It's Sunday, special occasion... three-bean, with her secret carrot-&-zucchini sauce."

"Nail on the head, Jude," chuckled Gideon, and tucked the tupperware under his arm once again as he opened up the gate.

They returned to the bakery van, well beyond the yard and out of view from the house, when Judy turned to them and dropped the merry facade after a cursory ear-swivel, "What happened in there?" she asked, clearly upset but by no means furious, especially not at them.

"Grav's parents are as crazy he is," Nick yelled in a harsh whisper, pulling out the note and unfolding it to reveal the inside, "This is a fox's head mounted on a plaque!"

"Magnus almost said so himself before Clea stopped him," Gideon said, also in a harsh, yelling whisper, "Grav sent these as a threat!"

"Will you both calm down!" she harshly whispered right back, "We have no proof that these are death threats, except for a private conversation and a hunch. Right now, we need to get over to the Sheriff Longmare and open up that investigation. If you want, we can discuss this on the way, but as it stands I need you both to not lose your heads!"

A dark, uncomfortable silence fell over them.

"I didn't mean it like that," Judy apologized, her whispering less harsh as she looked at betrayed grimaces from either fox.

"He said it was a 'superstition', and by that clover on his lapel, I'd say it was one established by this 'House of Blessings' you bunnies are so fond of," Nick accused, shifting his weight back with a paw to his hip.

"Did this kind of thing actually happen?" Gideon asked, though not out of curiosity, as evidenced by his crossed arms, however interfered with by the tupperware.

"Now hold up, that was centuries ago-!" she tried.

"So it did happen!" the baker nearly yelled, turning and putting a palm to his forehead with a groan.

"You know what, I think I just figured out what 'ka-poof!' stands for," Nick growled, "A ' _homophone_ for the _acronym_ of the Correct And Proper Use Of-', and hold onto your hats for this one, ' _Foxes_ '!"

Judy wavered, staring aghast at him, "What, no?" she begged, "That's not it!"

"I heard how Grav kept referring to Gideon & I like we were a useful thing to keep around," he continued, and his voice shifted from accusation to desperate anger, "but best be careful not to keep too many of us! Wouldn't want a family of foxes running about, ya'know. Is there anything else in the Hexward Tenets we should know about?"

"Just stop it!" she snapped, tears in her eyes, "I didn't write those antiquated beliefs, and I don't follow them! I don't know a single bunny in Bunnyburrow that does. But you want to talk about horrible superstitions? Larger mammals used to wear bunny feet as a good luck charm. The Hexward Tenets somehow put an end to that, by saying it luckier to have the rabbits still attached!

"Our histories are dark, Nick, darker than either of us know, but we can't hate each other because of it," she sobbed, "I didn't… I didn't know how much of it was still around, I hoped that love & trust won over the fear & hatred of the past. But I can't change others; all I can do is love and trust and hope that others follow me in doing so."

Nick breathed slowly, still holding that shred of disdain, but dropping it with a heavy sigh, "This is why I can't reason with the emotional, they always win.

"Look, I know you don't follow that _balderdash_ , Carrots, and I don't blame you because of what happened to foxes in the past. But I need to know, what exactly are we getting into here? Are there foxes, right now, getting nailed to walls in the expectations that it'll keep away curses? I… I don't expect you to know the answer to that, but I need you to understand that this new information… it's _terrifying_ , for a whole host of reasons that I'm sure you're already well aware of."

"Is Magnus going to come after us, now?" Gideon broke in, "That's what I wanna know about, because evil curses or not, he's very real, and doesn't seem the type to take it on the chin."

"Well," Judy sniffed, using her own sleeves and palms to clear her face, "I don't think he will. He's powerful, sure, but my Dad is considered the Hopps patriarch, and Mom's made it clear that you're both under their protection." She then managed a smirk, "Remember how you said 'you never know when a bunny's listening'? That can go for other bunnies, too."

"This is sounding more and more like rabbit nobility," Nick scoffed, but playfully, "So, I think we've spent enough time losing our heads over losing our heads. If everyone's head is securely fastened to their neck, let's not _lose_ anymore time and _head_ over the sheriff's."

"Before we do that," Judy said, "I want to test that whipped cream."

"What?" both foxes nearly cried out.

"I need to know what we're getting into," she determined, "All we have to go on is that it either _is_ or _isn't_ poisonous to foxes," gesturing to Nick and Gideon, respectively, "and it makes Bo regurgitate; which, considering his physiology is something of an anomaly, doesn't help us much," she then pulled out a spoon from the bundle wrapped in napkins she acquired from her mother, "I'm the best chance we've got to find out what it's supposed to do. If anything goes wrong, call an ambulance, and keep an eye on me back at the house until it arrives. From there, you can open an official investigation while I'm in the hospital, being treated by some of the brightest medical minds of the Tri-Burrows."

"You sure about this, Judy?" worried Gideon, but to her affirming grunt, he pulled out the keys to his van. He approached the back doors as if they led to the cage of a monster, and slid the key in to unlock the latch, hesitantly opening only the one side with the vat waiting within. The stouter fox continued, popping each fastener until the lid was removed, and exchanged one plastic container for another. He turned about, holding it before him, and peeled open the seal of the deathly white concoction.

"You don't have to do this," Nick said.

"Don't you trust me, Slick?" she answered, and scooped up half-a-dollop that her spoon could hold, to which she toasted her fox friends with a brave smile, "See you on the other side."

 **To be continued...**


	29. Afterword

We'll bullet point this to keep it moving along (but without actual bullet points, because that would be _weird_ ).

Bullet-point the first: thanks for reading. How you ever got past that amalgamation of a thought experiment and creative exercise is beyond me, so kudos.

Secondly: there's more coming up, but I'm sure a clever lot like you already knew that. Maybe when the new year chugs in, "The Neverwere Moments" will return with a continuation so wittily named "Brave".

And thricey-dicey-over-ricey: Gonna do something a _smidge_ different, so hold onto your tails and hang in there.


End file.
